


That Saved A Wretch Like Me

by astorii



Series: You See, But Do Not Observe [6]
Category: Magic Kaito, 名探偵コナン | Detective Conan | Case Closed
Genre: AU, Conan you need a lesson in that, Gen, HakuKaiCon Teamwork, In which Cone learns what teamwork is, KaiCon Teamwork, Teamwork
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-11
Updated: 2019-06-02
Packaged: 2019-06-25 18:42:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 28
Words: 28,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15646668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astorii/pseuds/astorii
Summary: Fate brings him to Ekoda.It’s a race against time for Conan and an unexpected company as they face off against an unknown culprit with an unhealthy obsession for explosive infernos.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I do not and never will own DCMK.

_(Around the corner, a looming figure stands, his back pressed against the wall and his chest heaving. The way he’s peeking around the corner makes it seem like he’s hiding (—he’s probably hiding!—), but from what? His eyes are wide and paranoid, his face shadowed like the rest of his body, his right hand clenched around something._

_Then, he pulls away from the wall, bolting off, running away—running away from what?_

_The door shudders to a close behind him, groaning just a little bit. And, as it shuts, clicking in place, the building is engulfed in dancing flames of crimson-gold._

_And, inside, a scream shatters the night.)_

_•••_

To set the scene, Conan is sitting in the front seat of Agasa’s beloved beetle. In the backseat, are the Detective Boys and Haibara all squished together, doing their best to stay seated while huddling around Mitsuhiko’s phone. And, on that phone, an episode of _Kamen Yaiba_ is playing for the kids to enjoy. Today, after all, the group is on their way to a new merchandise shop that has opened up in Ekoda for all things themed after the masked crime-fighter.

In the front passenger seat, Conan is listening to something on his own phone with a pair of earbuds providing sound for only himself to hear. He leans against the door, his left elbow resting on it as he holds his cheek in his hand. His eyes are glued on an article he’s reading, locking away the information for future reference.

_“At around 12:06 a.m., in the Ekoda Prefecture, a warehouse burned down. Hours later, responders to the scene would discover a charred body. Only five hours ago did the body get identified as that of Shibaura Satoshi, aged 59 and ten-year president of the Koshiba Electronics Company. Further investigation shows signs of foul play, which the police are currently investigating. In other news, repo—”_

“You’re listening to it, aren’t you?” Agasa asks, keeping his voice low so that the children won’t hear it. Between the news anchor’s voice in his ears and the sound of the kids with their episode, Conan almost doesn’t hear him.

Managing a short nod, Conan sits up, rolling his shoulders back a little. He places his phone down. In a low murmur, low enough for only the professor to hear, he says that he’s a little concerned and he hopes that the kids will stay out of trouble. Though, he has a feeling that something is going to happen because something always does.

From what he can gather via various online articles, the fire had broken out in an instant and an anonymous caller had reported the inferno that swallowed up an abandoned building as well as the life of the man within it.

Conan has a hunch that this hadn’t been an accident. After all, what would a man with such wealth and status be doing in what was apparently a fairly run-down building? And, in addition to that, the chances of a building such as that catching fire in the middle of the night? He could confirm his suspicions, but no other information has been made public.

In his line of work, foul play and fire can only mean two things: a bomber or an arsonist.

Perhaps, if he’s lucky, he can ditch the kids and find the place of interest. He doubts they’ll notice he’s gone for a few minutes as they’ve been dreaming about this shop for months since its opening was first announced. Even now, the kids are too distracted by the episode and Haibara appears to be listening to her own music as she closes her eyes and leans against the door. Though, maybe he won’t go off in search of another mystery.

He’s with the kids today, after all. He doesn’t want them to involve themselves in a situation that could be dangerous, could be deadly. Conan sighs, leaning back against the door.

They speak no more about the incident. In fact, they speak no more at all. Agasa focuses on the road, making a smooth righthand turn and Conan continues to listen to the news. There’s nothing more to talk about. Today, Conan decides that unless the mystery comes to him, he won’t come to the mystery. Though, with past experiences, the mystery will always find him, one way or another.

•••

A strangling sensation in his chest, suffocating him.

Against his will, Conan finds himself in the shop with the kids. He’s following them around, Haibara and Agasa behind him. With starry eyes and bright smiles, the kids pick up random trinkets and toys, showing them off to the others.

“Look at this!” Mitsuhiko all but yells, holding up a a box the size of his head. “It’s a model of Yaiba in his original suit!”

Ayumi almost hits Conan in the face with an action figure that she presents to him. “It’s Yaiba from that special where he faced the Black Planet Man!”

With a weak laugh, the little detective pushes the figure towards Ayumi. He tells her that it’s nice and she beams back at him, prancing off to another area in the store. From a few feet away, Genta holds up a bag of chips that are shaped like villains in the show.

With the opportunity to leave presented to him, Conan asks Agasa for the keys to the Beetle. He tells the man that he’s going to wait for them all there as he hadn’t gotten much sleep. Albeit hesitant and a little wary, the professor hands him the keys and tells him to make sure he doesn’t get lost.

Haibara tells him to stay out of trouble and sends him off.

He doesn’t need to be told twice. Conan sneaks off, hoping that the kids won‘t notice for at least a few minutes.

That strangling sensation, the one constricting his lungs and pounding on his heart, he knows it—he knows it well.

Something bad is going to happen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... funny story: the author is an absolute idiot and deleted the wrong story. :)))
> 
> All 12 of the current chapters have been retrieved from the file ao3 emailed me. Since the files have replaced various characters throughout the story, I had to go through using the find feature to correct them. Even so, I need to edit every chapter once more as there could be some characters I missed and there are backwards quotations. All in all, I’m very frustrated, but it’s okay.
> 
> My sincerest apologies for the inconvenience and I hope that you all will continue to leave comments and kudos because I seriously considered dropping this entire series (I’m a dramatic lil schnitzel) and it’s been a very... interesting few hours.
> 
> Anyway, it’s 5 a.m. so I’m going to bed and I hope you all have a lovely day! :)


	2. Chapter 2

As he makes his way over to where the elevator should be, he wonders why the shop holding the children’s interest had to be in Ekoda. Why couldn’t a branch open up in Beika? Really, he hopes that the kids find something worthwhile so that this excursion isn’t a complete waste and all for naught. If he had his way, he’d be curled up on the couch in the Professor’s house or that of his own, reading a classic mystery. Although, he supposes anything is better than this.

With a sigh, Conan goes through a mental checklist of anything and everything that could happen today. Shopping centers and malls may be fun for those who wish to empty their wallets on material things, but they can still hold many dangers. In his time, things from kidnappings to bombs have been associated with the times he’s accompanied someone while shopping. A plethora of cases can be found in a mall of this magnitude. Even something as mundane as shoplifting doesn’t bode well as there are thousands of ways such a thing can go wrong.

Not thinking, he tugs on the noose around his neck, pulling the fabric of his green hoodie. Behind his glasses, his eyes are widened slightly and jumping at every sight of black, zooming in against his will. He hazards a breath, finding himself a little choked as something weighs down on his chest. The sensation of unease and dread comes over him as the night bleeds into morning—slowly and then all at once, he supposes, which is much like falling asleep in a sense. Conan swallows, feeling something akin to cotton in his throat.

He drops his hands, letting the fabric where hood meets body overwhelm him once more, slowly choking him. As he takes his mind off of what may happen, he finds himself focusing on what did happen. The death of the electronics company president, for example. With a grimace, Conan reminds himself that it’s entirely possible that the death wasn’t some unfortunate accident. No, he thinks that something else is afoot because something must have happened for the president to die—something foul, something criminal.

And he intends to figure it out.

Unluckily, Conan finds himself being pulled back from his morbid musings when he recognizes the feeling of being watched. Instead of on his chest, there’s a heavy weight on the back of his head and it’s that of being gazed upon with a high intensity. Almost instinctively, he turns his head, craning it at the perfect angle so that his search is subtle; however, even though he does look with a practiced sneak, the gaze upon him disappears, taking away the heaviness.

Although he’s unnerved, he doesn’t recognize anything malicious accompanying the eyes that had been on him. The feeling had been a farrago of familiar and mysterious, digging into the back of his head and making the hairs on his neck stand as though something were about to go down. He shakes his head, telling himself that if he didn’t sense anything bad then it isn’t anything to worry about. What’s more important is returning to the Beetle so he can conduct some internet investigation on Shibaura‘s death.

It takes two or three more minutes of walking for him to reach the correct elevator. He stands on his toes to reach the button to no avail. Conan scowls and is about to give up when a hand presses the down arrow, which he had been aiming for. Surprised, he turns his head and sees a man, smiling down at him with crooked lips.

Conan’s eyes narrow a little, taking in every small detail he can pick out. The man wears a large olive green jacket that masks his body type, shapeless black pants, and rather plain boots. Covering the majority of his face is unruly brown hair that seems unnaturally long and unkempt. The really peculiar detail would be the black leather gloves sticking out of one of the many pockets in that obnoxiously tacky jacket. The little detective notices an odd scent, but not an unfamiliar one. He wrinkles his nose a tiny bit, wondering to himself what that smell could be.

“Were you hoping to go down?” the man asks, his voice pitched oddly low in such a way that arouses Conan’s suspicions. “I was headed down to the lot myself.”

“Yes, thank you,” Conan says, tearing his eyes away from the man. He eyes the bag dangling by the man’s side. Filing it away in his mental cabinet, he notices that it’s for a cake shop; the shop, he recalls, is on the second floor. Even though he isn’t one to privy into other people’s businesses if they aren’t involved in a case, he asks, “Did you buy a cake?”

“I was here to return a bad purchase so today calls for a celebration,” replies the man, his tone sounding oddly pleased. Looking up, the man’s face is hidden from view. Conan notices an odd scar on the bottom of his jaw. “You should run along home, boy. I don’t think you want to be around here any longer.”

The suggestion sparks a question in Conan’s mind, but he doesn’t dare ask what the man means. With a small ding of arrival, the elevator door opens and the two of them climb in. Thankfully, he’s able to reach the button for the underground parking lot. He’s a little surprised when the man presses a different button, but the detective realizes that there are more underground levels than the one Agasa chose to park in.

The ride is short, but the man is the first one off between the both of them. The odor lingers after the man exits. Conan finds himself dwelling more on why the smell is familiar. As the door slides close, slowly concealing the lot, the weight on his chest becomes more evident as he places the scent.

The man smelled of gun powder.


	3. Chapter 3

He doesn’t realize that he rushed out of the elevator until the heavy smell of gasoline and exhaust assaults his nostrils.

“He smelled like gun powder.”

For a moment, Conan berates himself, trying to argue that he’s just overreacting because the man isn’t a criminal for looking and smelling suspicious. Then again, criminal or not, Mr. Tall-Dark-And-Suspicous spoke nothing but peculiar sentences that could hold double meanings if one really thought about it.

_(“I was here to return a bad purchase so today calls for a celebration.”)_

_(“You should run along home, boy. I don't think you want to be around here any longer.”)_

He snaps out of his musings when he hears the echo of a car door slamming. The quiet roar of an engine resonates as he tenses up. Crashing onto him, the strangling sensation in his chest yells like the thrashing waves. To set the scene, time seems to slow as a nondescript silver car rolls by. His hand flies to his glasses, activating the magnifying lens. Quickly, it hones in on the license registration.

Conan has a strong inkling that that man is inside as the timing is perfect. When he reads the plate, his insides ice over. The Hiragana character for _shi_ is present, which is illegal. With dread, he realizes that the plate is fake and that’s enough to affirm his previous suspicions. The registration burns in his mind as he commits it to memory. Without wasting a second, he takes a tracker and pulls off his suspenders from under his hoodie in one fell swoop.

He’s done this before when intent on tailing _her_. Conan uses his galluses as a slingshot and holds the tracker against it, pulling it towards himself and releasing when he calculates the perfect angle and force needed to stick the small device onto the car. When he lets go, it flings through the air. Using his glasses, he sees it land just above the license registration. Then, he activates the tracking ability in his tricked out specs. The tiny blip tells him all he needs to know. He clips the suspenders to the waistline of his pants, letting the straps dangle by his sides.

His initial thought is to follow that car. That idea perishes when he finds that a nagging feeling in the back of his head is screaming for him to stay here. Nonetheless, someone needs to catch that car. With that sentiment in mind, he pulls out his bow tie and the phone he shouldn’t have.

“Megure-keibu!“ he says without preamble as soon as the man answers. He’s already running up the stairs, not wanting to deal with another struggle to reach the button. Something tells him that getting his skateboard is a waste of time and that getting himself to the second floor where that cake shop is would be the best course of action. “I’d like to report a fake license plate and possibly a stolen car. The kid with glasses—my cousin, Conan—informed me that the driver may have used a gun or possibly constructed a bomb or something of the like.” He rattles off the car’s make, registration, and the general location.

When he’s certain, he hangs up without any further explanation. As he sprints up the steps, straining this child’s body to go faster and further, a voice to his left says, “Shinichi-kun?”

“Tōichi-san,” he pants, veering to the right as he runs up a level. “What do you believe the probability is... of there being a bomb or a gunshot victim?”

“Assuming he wasn't making fireworks?” the man asks in a humored voice. Then, his tone turns serious. “I'd say there's a fair chance.”

Conan almost curses, but he swallows the swear when he sees the 2nd Floor door. He throws it open, stumbling into the mall. Surveying the area, he sees that the cake shop is just two stores down to his left. For a brief moment, he hopes that the kids are still downstairs and ignorant of any possible threats.

Upon entry, he stops in his tracks. Standing at the counter is one Kuroba Kaito, who appears to be spending the day with two friends. The little detective steels himself, marching forward and choosing to ignore the civilian-garbed thief in favor of taking care of more pressing matters.

To the young woman behind the counter, he says, “Onēsan, there was a man dressed in an olive green jacket and black pants in here, right?” Then, he adds, “He was probably wearing brown boots and black leather gloves. And his hair was brown and unruly.”

“Kid, people come in and out of here everyday. Do you think I’d remember one person?” the girl asks, raising her brows and leaning against the counter. “Look, I have some customers here and I need to do my—“

“Onēsan,” Conan says, pitching his voice just a little low in an attempt of establishing a serious tone. Oh, he loathes looking like a mere child because no one takes him seriously. “I need to know which direction he came from. It’s important.”

Judging by her expression, it looks like she’s about to tell him to run along, which is exactly what she does. When he’s about to send her a glare, Tōichi whispers a word of advice that makes his features melt into a seasoned poker face. Again, he tells her that he needs to know which direction the man came from.

In case anyone is wondering, Conan believes that that tidbit of information will narrow down the places he needs to search. He doesn't know what he's looking for _(—with his luck it’s probably a bomb or a person bleeding out—)_ but knowing where to look will make up just a little bit. His eyes never leave hers and she eventually relents, saying that, from what she recalled, the man came in from the left.

Conan thanks her before running off. The weight on his back is familiar because it's Kid’s.


	4. Chapter 4

From the connecting walkway from the left and right side of the second level, Conan peers down through the glass installed to keep shoppers from falling. A few moments ago, he had checked the tracking lens, watching the blip of the tracker veer right before disappearing off the grid, which told him that the man is out of his range.

“What am I looking for?” he wonders out loud as he watches the _Kamen Yaiba_ store. He had seen glimpses of the kids prancing about, so he’s assured himself that they’ll be safe. “A body or a bomb?”

“A bomb,” Tōichi dictates. “Would a man who just killed stick around with the risk of a body being found?”

“I suppose that’s true,” Conan admits, eyes widening at the realization. “Bombs are easier to hide as well and one can design them to blend in or hide them in inconspicuous places. If he has it set to detonate in a specific time while hiding it in a place where it’s unlikely anyone will find it, then he’ll be more lax about lingering for a few minutes. He‘d have ample time to get far away from the scene.”

The dead man agrees with him, saying that it’s their best bet. With a nod to himself, Conan decides that he needs to work fast if he wishes to find the alleged bomb. With a glance at his watch, he realizes that it’s been at least ten minutes since the man left and who knows how long since he ordered his cake. The little detective turns around.

With a deep breath, he steels himself. First, find the target. He looks around, wondering where the target may be. He hopes that the man hadn’t been utterly mad and seeking to commit a mass genocide. Idly, as he thinks to himself, he reaches into his pocket, fingering the small pocketknife he’s conditioned himself into carrying around. The blade is tucked away so he doesn’t hurt himself. He never leaves the agency without it.

Conan begins walking, unsure of what to do. On one hand, he can enlist the help of the Detective Boys. On the other hand, Tōichi hates it when he purposefully places the kids in danger and he does as well. The magician is wary enough when it comes to the shrunken sleuth throwing _himself_ headfirst into danger. And calling a bomb squad at this point may be too late.

Suddenly, he finds himself in front of a plethora of television screens displayed behind the glass of a storefront. The news channel is on and a report on the electronics company president’s death plays on mute. Conan stares at it, his eyes widening as he comes to acknowledge the return of a weight on his chest. He can’t explain it but—

“Shinichi-kun, do you believe this is in any way related to the Koshiba president’s death?”

Conan pauses, entertaining the idea. He recalls that authorities suspect foul play. Foul play could mean anything from the president being dead before the fire or the fire being caused by something— _something like a bomb_. With eyes growing steadily wide, the pinpricks of being watched stab at his back, somehow weighing down on him with a familiar heaviness. He dismisses the gaze in favor of checking his watch. Now, fifteen minutes have passed since the man left and who knows how long it’s been since the man had ordered his cake.

“Two Koshiba executive board members will be making an appearance in fifteen to host a quick talk about the company’s hopes for their products according to the electronic advertisements,“ Tōichi says. “You don’t think...?”

“I do,” Conan murmurs. His tongue runs over his top lip. He looks around, activating the zoom feature of his glasses, whipping his head around. Across from him, he notices some lights and camera stands set up with a few nondescript people fixing up. “There!”

He deactivates the feature, returning his specs to the faux glasses he masks himself with. With a quickening pace, he strolls over with his fists curling and his nails digging into his skin. Try as he might, he still feels like he’s choking. Conan skips over to one of the kinder looking young ladies fixing one of the studio lights, tugging on the hem of her capris.

“Onēchan!” he chirrups, looking up at her with bright eyes. His thoughts race a mile a second as he tries to think of where a bomb could be. His current thought is in a shopping bag, tucked away and hidden from the rest of the world. “Have you seen a bag? My tōsan put it down and forgot to pick it back up.”

“Sorry, Boy, I haven’t seen anything,” she replies, looking down at him. “You’d better leave. There’s going to be an event going on and I’d hate for you to get squished.”

Conan bristles, offended by the sentiment, but he doesn’t drop his expression. “Oh, I see. My tōsan wants me to find it—did you see him? He was wearing an olive green coat and black pants! He’s tall and has long brown hair. Was he here? He told me to find it but...” He pouts, releasing her pant leg, and laces his fingers together, fiddling with them. “I’m just having so much trouble.”

She taps a finger to her chin, cocking her hip out. Then, her eyes light up and she nods, kneeling down to his level. “He was here about twenty minutes ago,” she tells him, whispering as though it‘s a secret that she’s sharing. “He hung around that bench over there.”

The lady points him towards a plastic bench that looks out of place against the glass. Conan thanks her, running over and sliding to his knees. There’s a paper shopping bag tucked away, hidden behind one of the potted plants. Tentatively, he pulls it closer to him, testing his luck. When he peers in, a timer winks at him.

T minus 23 minutes.


	5. Chapter 5

“Is that the bag you were looking for?” the woman asks, her voice coming from behind.

Conan startles, gripping the bag closed and bringing it towards him in a slow manner so as to not jostle its dangerous contents. “Y-yeah! Thank you, Onēchan!” he manages to say as he picks it up, cradling it with the same amount of care he would exercise if he were holding a newborn child. The little detective ambles away, ignoring her goodbye as he looks for some place to open the bag without stirring up any panic.

His answer comes in the form of the nearest men’s room and he ducks inside and finds that no stalls are occupied. In fact, no one’s inside, which he is rather thankful for. Hoping that there aren’t any handicapped people in need of the bathroom, he chooses that very stall so that he’ll have ample room to sit down and take care of this. Holding his breath, he sets the bag down before seating himself with a disgusted sound—hopefully these floors are clean, but that’s the least of his worries at the moment. Instigating great care and caution, he rips the bag open by its corners, allowing the material to flutter to the ground.

Pulling out his pocketknife and flicking the blade out, he exhales, his breath slow and steady. He picks up the outer cover of the bomb, bringing it towards himself and then hesitating to make sure he hasn’t set anything off. His breath hitches as it comes off and he sets it down as soon as he can. For a moment, neither he nor Tōichi speak as if they’re waiting for the bomb to blow. He stares down at the mess of wires and at the timer, noting how he’s wasted two minutes and drinking in all the details.

“I believe cutting the red one on top should be our first move,” Tōichi remarks, his voice colored blank. “Then the yellow one right next to it.”

“I‘ve seen bombs like this,” Conan murmurs, recalling the files his father has and of past cases he’s worked on. “Not the easiest design to defuse, but there‘s no mercury lever, so it won‘t be too hard.” 

But first, he checks for any hidden traps or listening devices and the like. There aren’t too many wires, so his only concern should be cutting them in the right order. Still, he won’t make any assumptions. Idly, he wonders if any of the two wires Tōichi has listed will have fatal outcomes if cut. His eyes flicker over to the timer, watching the seconds tick down.

Will the Devil speak to him, he wonders, if he waits just a little longer to defuse the bomb?

“Shinichi-kun, trust me,” the magician says, his voice going soft. For a moment, Conan feels the weight of a hand on his shoulder. “Cut the red one and then the yellow.”

Rather than voicing his thoughts, Conan braves it, tucking his blade under the red wire and cutting upwards. With bated breath, he watches the bomb. Nothing seems to have happened as a repercussion. With a sigh of relief, he goes for the yellow one, giving it the same treatment as the other wire. The timer has yet to stop, so he wonders what his next move should be. He scans the wires, his eyes honing in on a green one. He glances at the magician, who nods in turn as if reading his mind.

Conan slides the blade under and jerks it, cutting through the material. He glances at the timer, seeing that it’s still running, and blows out a small breath of frustration, aiming it upwards and letting it jostle his bangs. Looking through a mental blueprint, he moves his hand to a white wire, nicking through that one without any hesitation. He pauses in his task, remembering that he had only mentioned to the Inspector that he suspected the man had used a gun or constructed a bomb.

With a sigh, Conan pulls his phone out, making sure that it’s the one with the soccer ball phone strap. He combs through his contacts, selecting Megure’s and hitting call. Promptly, he balances his phone between his shoulder and his cheek, continuing on with the mission. He had said, after all, that the kid with glasses was the one to notice things, which implies that it’s Conan who the police will find.

“ _Hello?_ ”

“Megure-keibu, it’s me, Conan!” He slices through a green wire and then a blue one. “Shinichi-niichan called you about a man, right? He smelled like gunpowder so I thought he did something bad. Then, I found a bomb!”

“ _A what?!_ ” the man yells, sounding panicked. “ _Conan-kun, do not try anything. Where are you? I’ll send a bomb squad to handle it._ ”

The little detective notices that he has three more wires to cut. He wonders which one to do next when Tōichi chooses the black one, which Conan cuts without complaint. Giving his location and current whereabouts, he looks back at the wires. Then, he bites his lip, sliding the blade under a red one, severing it. “Don’t worry!” he says, cringing at the pitch his voice reaches as he lacerates the final one. “I’ve stopped the timer.” Before the man can say anything more, he ends the call, tucking the phone into his pocket.

Expelling a sigh of relief, he leans back before standing to get himself off of the ground. Grimacing at the bomb, he hopes that it really is done and over with. At the very least it won’t go off unless someone makes it now that the timer’s been shut off. Conan checks his watch, hoping that someone will come soon to take it away. He thinks to go watch the brief Koshiba panel, but he doesn’t want to leave the explosive device to its, well, devices.

Resigning himself, he takes his phone out again to call Haibara so that she may know what’s going on.


	6. Chapter 6

Conan grimaces under Megure’s stare. The feel of it is nowhere near as comforting as Kaito’s had been, that is to say that he’s not too bothered by the magician’s scrutiny. He forces himself to meet the other’s gaze, plastering on a poker face before Tōichi can say anything about it. A drawn out sigh escapes the inspector’s lips when a bomb squad member comes over, confirming that the little detective had indeed defused it.

(The fact that the area had been cordoned off by police tape doesn’t help as a crowd of curious mall walkers gather around, wondering what’s going on.)

It doesn’t come as a surprise when the man admonishes him for doing something so dangerous, going on what feels like an hour long rant about how little boys shouldn’t be attempting to defuse a bomb on their own and how this is a task to be left to the professionals. He finishes off by saying that Conan is rather lucky that neither he nor anyone else got blown to smithereens. Following the lecture, someone asks just how exactly a young child would know how to defuse a bomb.

By his side, Tōichi hands Conan a lie to feed them. If he weren’t in front of anyone, the latter would have scoffed as an excuse has already formulated in his head. The detective fibs, claiming that Shinichi and Yūsaku had taught him how to, seeing as the young boy had luck just as bad as the teen’s, which led them to assume that it’s only given that he runs into troubling situations like earlier. Then, in an attempt to seem like an actual child, he adds in that he saw it on some documentary he had been forced to watch when the remote had been lost while Mouri and Ran were out.

Takagi comes over, his notebook and pen at hand and the inspector and the bomb squad member move away to speak with other law enforcement members. His questions are generic and to be expected. No, he didn’t recognize who did it. The man wore a shapeless olive green jacket, baggy black pants, and had his face covered by messy brown hair—although, the hair seemed more like a wig if anything, which is something he’s learned from his mother. The man told him this and that and said nothing else. His voice was weird and sounded fake, which implied a voice changer or just a person manipulating their voice. Oh, and the man had this odd scar on the bottom of his jaw.

“Takagi-keiji,” Conan says. “Can you tell me about the murder?” He elaborates by mentioning which murder he’s speaking of.

“Why? Are you curious about it?” Takagi asks, scratching his neck. He flips through his notebook, tapping on a page and explaining that he had not been an immediate responder as the case looked to be that of arson and under Yuminaga’s jurisdiction. “Shibaura Satoshi, 59, found inside warehouse. Apparent cause for death being smoke inhalation, but later inspection shows that he was hit on the head by a blunt object and most likely bled to death prior to the fire.”

That last bit had been news for Conan. “Say, Takagi-keiji, can you update me on the case if you learn more?”

The police detective furrows his brows, frowning in confusion before a thought occurs to him. The look of realization splashes onto his face and he kneels down, leaning in and whispering, “You don’t think these two cases are related, do you?”

Conan sticks his hands in his pockets, shrugging and looking away. “What would I know? I’m just a kid,” he replies, flashing a big grin at the man. “Say, did they ever catch the car?”

Takagi gives him an odd look before shaking his head. “Well, they found the car parked in an abandoned parking lot,” he says, flipping through his notebook again. “Though, the man wasn’t nearby. We have some of our men investigating the car to make sure it wasn’t stolen.”

The faux child hums, making a mental note to check out the place. He masks another grimace when he realizes that there’s a possibility that his tracker might be discovered. Conan looks up, making up his mind to find a way over there. He asks if the man is willing to give him a ride over there and then to the station where he’ll have to undergo further questioning. His intentions are questioned, which the little detective answers by pretending that he wants to see if he can find anything they missed. Takagi relents only because he knows Conan‘s rather observant.

When Takagi goes over to get an okay from Megure, Conan turns on his heel, spotting Haibara in the crowd. He walks over, taking out the keys for the Beetle and dropping them in the hand she extends towards him. He notices that she came alone, probably so she may chastise him.

“I don’t suppose you can get my skateboard for me, can you?” he jests, giving her an awkward grin. She rolls her eyes before denying him that service.

“Kudō-kun, the kids will be quite unhappy when they hear of this,” she hisses, searching him with her eyes. “Hakase took them to a ramen shop where they’ll be out of the way.”

“Sorry, sorry,” Conan says, averting his eyes. “Can you at least tell him to check out my skateboard? I think I bumped it hard when I was chasing a thief the other day. It’s been making weird noises since.”

With a sigh, she says that she will before asking if he’s going to the station for any further questioning and the like. He affirms her suspicions, adding in that he’s going to grab the tracker he used before anyone notices it on the getaway car. When Takagi calls him over, he tells her that he’ll swing by tomorrow for his skateboard. In turn, she tells him to have an apology ready for the kids.


	7. Chapter 7

Conan chooses to sit in the back.

He brings his feet onto the seat, placing his hands together in front of his face, reminiscent of the position Holmes is known to take whenever deep in thought. Conan wonders if that really was the only bomb, but he tries to convince himself so by saying that if there were anymore bombs, they would have gone off by now. Just to be sure, he pitches this idea towards Takagi, who in turn says that the mall is going to close so that the proper handlers may search for anymore.

“Sometimes I forget you aren’t one of us,” Takagi remarks, alluding to the fact that the little detective isn’t a part of the force yet. “Defusing a bomb with nothing more than your brain and a pocketknife. You know a lot of things kids your age shouldn’t.”

The blow is unintentional, so it’s easy for Conan to withhold from glaring at the police sergeant. In a chirping voice not unlike a bird, the faux child says that he’s just lucky, which Takagi chuckles at that before commenting about how that sentiment is rather debatable, which it is. Many can say that the bespectacled sleuth is unlucky enough to run into danger on an almost daily basis whilst using up all his luck on staying alive during the more perilous moments—again, not many can contradict that statement as it’s a wonder how he’s alive given all the hazards he’s run into.

“You should contact Mouri-san and Ran-san,” advises the man. “I’m going to have to go back after we finish getting a proper statement from you and conduct some better questioning. I don’t think anyone’s going to be available to drive you back to Mouri-san’s place.” Takagi glances at him through the rear view mirror and almost startles when he sees bright blue eyes staring at him. He returns his gaze to the road ahead. “Megure-keibu contacted a forensic artist to meet us since you’re our only eye witness.” Following that, the Rank 8 Division One Officer explains that many employees have already been interviewed, including the one Conan pointed out from the cake shop, and all of them either had no face time with the man or could only recall so much.

Conan takes out his phone, toying with its strap, and texts Ran, informing her that he’s going to need someone to pick him up later. Then, he pockets his phone and places his feet on the floor of the car, bringing a hand to his glasses to activate the tracking lens. The blip from the transmitter has yet to appear, so he deactivates the feature in favor of staring out the window. In the distance, he spots the Koshiba Company main building, standing tall and proud; its size is undoubtedly reflecting on the company’s net worth. He narrows his eyes at it, wondering how it’s all connected.

The answer doesn’t come by the time they reach the parking lot, which is only twenty-five minutes later. As soon as Takagi parks, Conan throws the door open, hopping out and running for the abandoned car. In the guise of being overexcited, he ducks under the police tape and collides with the back of the car and slams a hand on top of the transmitter he had stuck on. An officer yells out and he pries it off while stumbling away from the vehicle, his eyes going wide but not comically so.

“Ah! I’m sorry!” he cries as he bows down, pocketing the tracker in one fluid motion. “I just tripped!”

“Conan-kun, you need to be more careful around crime scenes,” Takagi admonishes while lifting up the tape so he can get inside. “You could have hurt yourself.”

“Right!” yells Conan, standing straight and nodding his head. He looks past one of the officers who is presumably dusting the door for fingerprints and peers inside the open door. “Hey, Officer-san, did you find anything?”

A man looks at him, raising his brows while shaking his head. “Nothing out of the ordinary, kid,” he says. “No fingerprints, no nothing.” As a joke, he extends an invitation for the faux child to check and confirm this for himself.

With greedy fingers, Conan takes it, giving a quick thanks and climbing into the car, somehow finding the time to slip on a pair of gloves from his back pocket. Again, the gloves are due to Tōichi’s influence. The magician had been rather adamant that he start carrying them around so he could be more lax and less worried about leaving fingerprints behind; it beats using a handkerchief anyway, which the detective doesn’t disagree with.

He looks around, inspecting the interior of the car while dodging the hands grabbing at him. Takagi sputters his name and someone manages to grab Conan around the waist, pulling him out and dangling him in the air.

“Look, I don‘t care if he’s the Sleeping Kogoro’s kid or whatever,” someone says, throwing him into Takagi’s arms. “A kid’s still a kid and we can’t risk him tampering with evidence.”

“Sorry, Conan-kun, I guess you’ll have to wait,” the sergeant remarks, setting the little detective down. “Come on, we need to get you to the station so that Mouri-san and Ran-san can pick you up.”

With a sigh, Conan walks towards the car, sending a withering glare towards the man who had kept him from finding anything. He sits in the back again and Takagi starts the car after shouting to the officers that he’ll be back for any reports that they might have. As they drive off, neither of them speak a word.

Tōichi settles beside him, watching the boy ponder. A few minutes later, the magician says, “I have a feeling that we’ll be seeing a lot of Kaito until this mystery gets solved,“ with an underlying tone of fondness. Obviously, the man doesn’t want the mystery, but he’s glad to see his son—that’s enough.

Conan looks at him.


	8. Chapter 8

Conan sighs, wanting nothing more than to suffocate himself using one of the pillows he’s leaning against. The kids are chattering all at once, looking at him with varying expressions but speaking words that are quite similar if not the same. He notices that Haibara is sitting on the couch, one leg crossed over the other as she flips through a magazine with a distinct air of casualty. She seems to sense the weight of his gaze and looks up, smirking at him. He looks away.

“Maybe you should back off of Edogawa-kun,” she advises, speaking to the kids. “He just finished being questioned yesterday. I’m sure he must be tired from it.”

A shrill gasp escapes the other girl‘s lips. “But it’s so unfair!” Ayumi cries out, looking affronted. She crosses her arms, pouting as she stares at the spectacled boy. “Conan-kun got all the credit!”

“Yeah!” Genta yells, looking outraged. He points a finger at Conan while shouting something about how everyone only ever pays attention to the small boy even though he isn’t the only member of the Detective Boys. Mitsuhiko nods, affirming the bigger boy’s sentiment and commenting about how it’s always Conan who gets the credit as well as being the one who gets to have all the quote-unquote fun. Haibara hides a snicker by lifting her magazine.

“You guys were just so excited about the shop that I didn’t want to pull you away,” Conan groans, sliding down in his spot. “You’ve been talking about it for months. Besides, what could you have done? You don’t know how to defuse a bomb and the man who planted it was already being pursued by the police.” As an afterthought, he adds, “It’s not like my name was ever mentioned anyway.”

The shrunken scientist regards the kids with a heavy stare. “It isn’t very nice to take credit for other people’s work,” she says, imparting a good deal of advice to the children. “It’s especially not nice when you haven’t even done anything to contribute.” Upon noticing the protests written on their faces, she continues. “While Edogawa-kun might not have asked for your assistance this time, you’ve done it before in the past. The only reason he hasn’t said anything to you is because he doesn’t like the spotlight, so he’s content with letting you have it.”

Mitsuhiko frowns, averting his gaze. “I guess you’re right,” he admits, scratching his head. He turns to look at Conan, bowing slightly. “Sorry. I guess you had good intentions.”

“I’m sorry too,” Ayumi pipes up, her face turning pink as she mirrors the freckled boy’s actions. “You’re probably right. Having us there wouldn’t have mattered.”

“Yeah, well, we could’ve looked for more bombs in case the bad man left anymore,” Genta grumbles. He notices the stares the other kids plus Haibara are giving him. “Okay, yeah, I’m sorry too.”

Conan bites the inside of his cheek, discreetly looking at Tōichi for help. In return, the magician tells him to accept the apologies and assure the kids that he’ll ask for help so long as it’s within their capabilities. The detective repeats that, more or less, telling the kids that he doesn’t like the attention his actions grant him, so he’s thankful that they take credit. The kids light up at that, asking him if he really means it. With a wary nod, he makes a promise.

Before anymore conversation can ensue, Agasa asks the kids if they want to try a new video game for him. The three cheer, running over, leaving Conan and Haibara by the television. The detective turns it on, switching to a news channel in hopes that the scientist doesn’t try to initiate any further talk. He watches as a news reporter recounts the episode at the mall. She says something about how sources have told her that it was a young boy who had found and defused the bomb.

“So, did they find the man?” Haibara asks. “Or anymore bombs?”

“They had me speak with a forensic artist,” he replies, his voice dry. “And no, they searched through and found nothing else. It was just the one, thankfully. Megure and the bomb squad lectured me on doing what I did and kept telling me that I’m lucky I didn’t blow up the place.” He scoffs. “Are they forgetting the elevator incident?” Though, one of the members stuck around to commend him for his skills as he had, in fact, defused the bomb entirely, suggesting that he considers joining them when he’s old enough. Then, he mentions that the getaway car was found abandoned with a distinct lack of suspicious men.

She hums, satisfied with his answers. “You’re welcome,” she says, “for telling the kids.”

“Whatever,” he murmurs. “Sure, it’s a bit annoying but it doesn’t bother me that much. Besides, they’re kids. They don‘t know any better. They probably just wanted to get the name out so...” He quiets down as the story changes to that of two Koshiba Company members. The talk had to be canceled as civilians were evacuated so that a bomb squad could check for anymore explosives. A reporter interviews the two members, asking about their president‘s death and how it’s affected the company.

One of the two members, a woman, speaks into the microphone, telling the reporter that a memorial will be held soon at the company’s own building in remembrance of their president—apparently it’s an event currently being planned by the president’s personal secretary.

The other, a man, looks away from the camera, dragging his coworker along while yelling at everyone to leave them alone.

The reporter looks back at the two, her cheeks coloring before she looks to the camera and continues on about the event. Meanwhile, Tōichi stares pensively at the screen. Conan doesn’t need to ask because the man begins to speak.

“There was something odd about that person from before,” he says. “I can’t place my finger on it.”

Conan switches the channel.


	9. Chapter 9

He stares at the small box that the professor had set down on the table. The kids gather around with curious looks on their faces. Haibara, however, continues to leaf through her magazine in a way that makes him wonder if she’s actually reading it. Conan narrows his eyes at the box as it looks suspiciously like—

“A ring,” he deadpans, picking it up. When he opens it, his suspicions are confirmed. He pulls it from the cushion and stares it; it definitely is no ordinary ring when one peers at it from such a close distance. The band itself is silver in color and there appears to be some sort of lens that could pass off as an odd jewel if one doesn’t inspect it carefully. “You made me a ring.”

“Not just any ring,” Agasa says, brushing his knuckles against his chest. “A camera ring—just rotate this part to activate the shutter lens! It’s perfect for when you want to take pictures without anyone noticing—or if you don’t have access to your phone.“ He throws in a wink that makes the detective stare at him incredulously behind a sturdy poker face. “It automatically sends the pictures as a file to Ai-kun‘s computer.”

“Hm,” Conan says, placing it on his left ring finger. The placement due to his watch being on the same arm. At the same time, the kids ask if they could possibly acquire some of their own. The professor laughs, rubbing the back of his head and saying that he doesn’t have the material to make even one more at the moment. Even if he did, he doesn’t want to trust the kids with something they could possibly abuse.

Of course, that answer isn’t satisfactory. As a harmless jest, Mitsuhiko gives Conan a side-eyed glare and tells him not to sneak any pictures of cute girls—namely Ran. At that, the faux child colors pink and sputters, waving his hands and saying that he would never do such a thing. In the darker corners of his mind, he thinks about how any hopes of that sort of relationship with Ran had been thrown at the window all those years ago. Ayumi’s cheeks puff up at the idea of him taking any pictures of quote-unquote cute girls and Genta breaks out into boisterous laughter.

“Saving yourself for someone, Edogawa-kun?” Haibara asks, lowering her magazine to meet his eyes. “After all, you know what the left ring finger is reserved for, no?”

“Aren‘t I a little young for that, Haibara?” Conan retaliates, emphasizing a few choice words. She rolls her eyes in response and returns her gaze to the glossy pages in her hands. The detective smiles at the inventor with no small amounts of appreciation. “Thank you, Hakase.” He lifts his hand, watching the ring catch some light. “This would have been useful to have yesterday...”

As Agasa begins to break out one of his good old quizzes, Conan finds himself thinking back to the events of yesterday. For some reason, he can’t get the man’s smile out of his mind. He might have been too distracted by the idea of getting to the Beetle to do research to notice, but when he looks back, he’s almost sure that there had been something to that man’s smile. He can remember the expression given to him perfectly, but the word he seeks is on the tip of his tongue.

“What’s on your mind, Shinichi-kun?” Tōichi asks, breaking him from his thoughts.

“I feel like there‘s something I’m not seeing,” he murmurs in time to hear Haibara finish rattling off an explanation for the riddle’s solution. Everyone looks at him as if he had grown a second head. Before he can ask why they’re all looking at him, Genta pipes up, asking what he thinks he‘s not seeing. Immediately, Conan recoils, not realizing he had spoken that loud. He gives a nervous shout of, “N-nothing! Just talking to myself like I always do,” before turning around to pick up whatever remained of his pokerface.

He gives Tōichi a small grin. Even after all these years, his poker face still needs work. In return, the man imparts his own advice, telling Conan that he needs to work on relaxing his muscles and to clear his mind so that he can hide his reactions better. He’s heard the same thing for years, but it doesn’t get any easier. A detective with a clear mind is a bit rare in his opinion.

Conan startles when his phone buzzes in his pocket. Everyone stops to stare as he pulls out his phone—his phone, not Shinichi’s, thankfully. The number isn’t one he recognizes, but he answers the call with a tentative, “Moshi moshi,” while taking a few steps away from the kids so that they don’t eavesdrop.

“ _Edogawa Conan-kun?_ ” an unfamiliar voice says. He doesn’t reply. “ _I got your number from Wataru Takagi-keiji. My name is Hakuba Saguru, a detective, and I’d like to ask you a few questions. I was in the cake shop when you barged in and I must say that I’m rather curious. If it’s all right with you, perhaps we could meet up?_ ”

Hakuba Saguru... Conan has a vague recollection of the name. He remembers reading about a detective from London who had taken up an interest in Kid. To meet with someone like him could prove to be interesting, he supposes. Some small inkling inside of him says to accept the invitation.

“I don’t know,“ he says, tapping out a message in Morse code. Perhaps, it’s a bit much, but he wants to test this detective’s skills. Besides, the kids are probably listening and Conan would prefer to keep them out of trouble if he can help it or Tōichi will lecture him. “It depends.”

“ _I understand. Thank you for your time, Edogawa Conan-kun._ ”

Conan smirks, ending the call. It seems that he has some plans today.

“Hakase, is my skateboard all right to ride?”


	10. Chapter 10

Fixing his backpack on his shoulders, Conan calls out over his shoulders, telling the kids that he’ll see them tomorrow as he has an errand of sorts to run. Before any of them can rush out to interrogate him on his motives, he shifts his right foot to press down on the button. With a hum, he blasts off, riding past the gates, which were irresponsibly left open.

The speed isn’t as fast as it could be, but he doesn’t feel any sense of urgency. While the sidewalk is otherwise unoccupied, he pulls out his phone. He glances up briefly before looking back to his screen, thumbing out his passcode and saying, “Tōichi-san, have you ever heard of The Blue Parrot?”

“But of course,” Tōichi replies. “Put the phone away, Shinichi-kun. I’m fairly certain that I can guide you. It’s still in Beika City, but rather close to Ekoda.”

The detective powers his device off and pockets it in one fluid motion. He leans to the left to steer the skateboard away from the curb as Tōichi directs him to stay on the sidewalk. Conan hums to himself for a moment, relishing in the wind combing through his hair and the city sounds; it’s rather relaxing and very welcome considering what he‘s been through recently. In the middle of his musings, he veers away from a straggling pedestrian.

As he approaches a crosswalk, he hears a car horn beeping twice. Instinct says that the signal is for him, so he moves his foot off of the button and steps back with his right foot, causing the back of his skateboard to scrape against the ground with the new distribution of weight. He stops right before the curb and notices a familiar car waiting at the light with its window rolling down.

“Takagi-keiji! What are you doing?” he asks, giving the man a small smile.

“Ah, Conan-kun, I stopped by Mouri-san’s but he said you were at the Professor’s,” the sergeant says. “I was wondering if you wanted to visit the Koshiba main building to meet the executive board members. Megure-keibu wanted me to check out your tip and see if the Shibaura Case has anything to do with the bomb.”

“Yes, please!” he says with a cheer, picking up his skateboard and jumping the rail. Hurriedly, he opens the passenger side’s door and tosses his skateboard on the floor before climbing in himself. He barely has time to buckle up when the light turns green and the officer drives off. “Say, afterwards, can you drive me somewhere? Hakuba-niichan wants me to meet him at some place called The Blue Parrot.”

Hopefully, Conan thinks, the other detective won’t mind if he shows up much later to the rendezvous point.

He inquires about the case and its progress thus far as he types out a text to Hakuba. Takagi informs him that many officers on the case thought that the idea of the Shibaura Case and the bomb being related isn’t impossible, which brings him here. Then, the sergeant mentions that nothing had been found in the car—no hair samples, no prints, nothing; it had also been marked as a stolen vehicle and they’re currently working to trace the origins of the fake plate in hopes of figuring out who sold it to whom.

Conan ignores the rest of the ride in favor of wondering about the case. He’ll do his best to keep the kids out of this; they don’t have the qualifications to deal with a bomber. He knows that they‘re smart for their age—smarter than he was, even if he hates to admit it; frankly, he blames genes that are steadily becoming better with each new generation. The detective doesn’t want to risk having their reckless nature mingling with something as dangerous as explosive devices.

Somewhere between gazing out the window and getting lost in his thoughts, he’s pulled out a 10 yen coin and is moving it between his fingers at a deft speed; the trick had been taught to him by Tōichi years ago when they first met. Now, it’s become an unconscious habit of his. Takagi notices, glancing down at the coin that almost seems to teleport for just a second before returning his attention to the road.

“I didn’t know you could do magic tricks,” he remarks. “You really can do anything, Conan-kun.”

“Not really,” the detective replies. “I can’t sing. I have perfect pitch but I’m still hopeless.” He grimaces, remembering his mother’s fruitless attempts from when he was younger. It was no easier when Tōichi tried his hand at teaching the tuneless detective, but he at least made some progress. On the rare occasion, he could—

Irrelevant. Sorry.

The ride progresses in some silence. Soon enough, they pull into the parking lot. Conan leaves his skateboard and hops out, waiting for Takagi before running towards the door. The two security guards let them in and they proceed to the front desk where the woman manning it buzzes one of the higher floors.

How odd, he can’t help but think, for an electronics company to seem rather...

“Just head onto the elevator and go up to the 29th floor, all right? The Board is already waiting for you. First, however, please leave your phones and any cameras with me. The President was rather stingy about it, you see.”

“Thank you,” Takagi says, dropping his phone on the desk. He looks down at Conan and takes the red smartphone from him. “Come on, Conan-kun, it’s time to meet them now.”

It’s a good thing he left Shinichi’s phone in the car inside of his backpack, he thinks. “Right!” Conan rushes ahead of the Rank 8 Officer and the wide smile melts off of his face in an instant. His eyes narrow and his lips relax into something a bit more serious. Much to his relief, the buttons are at a reasonable height and he presses the down arrow and awaits the elevator’s arrival.


	11. Chapter 11

With bated breath, he listens to the elevator groan as it begins its seemingly slow ascent. Conan can’t help but stare at the dirtied metal walls, looking aghast at their condition. He purses his lips a moment later, wiping off the expression in favor of donning his poker face. Fiddling with a 10 yen coin once more is the only thing keeping him from biting his bottom lip, which is a terrible habit of his, a nervous tick if you may. Standing beside him, Tōichi looks around, making a remark about how this elevator has seen better days, which the detective can only agree with.

“I’m suddenly feeling claustrophobic,” Takagi mutters in a voice soft enough to make Conan believe those words weren’t meant to be heard so he doesn’t respond. Although, he agrees with that sentiment as well.

There are only two things he fears in this world: failure and _Them_ ; however, it will be lying if he denies that those people make his blood boil and yearn for his revenge. They stole his life; he’ll end their reign.

Tōichi chuckles. “I would as well if I were still alive,” he admits. “It’s a good thing I can’t die twice.”

With a roll of his eyes, Conan shifts his gaze to the series of buttons. Lit up is the 29th Floor button while all the others had been left untouched. He notes that there are 45 floors in total, which comes as a bit of a surprise. The information is filed away in the back burner of his mind, left to simmer as he focuses on what he’ll do upon meeting the board members. Perhaps he’ll test out Agasa’s new gadget so that Haibara will have the pictures to run background checks on them; it certainly won’t hurt and who knows what he might learn.

“Hey, Conan-kun, can I ask you something?” The faux child glances up at his living company. “Will you ever tell me who you are?”

Ah. A nod to their last experience together in an elevator. Conan casts his gaze towards the door, allowing a smirk to grace his features as he cooly places his hands in the pockets of his shorts. Without missing a beat, he says, “Until the next life, Takagi-keiji, I am Edogawa Conan.” He raises his head. “But when I do say, it’ll stay between us, yes? _Everything_ will stay between us.” Even this. Even now.

The sergeant blinks at the change in pitch of Conan’s voice—low and serious and not belonging to a child; it sends chills up his spine. Disappointed he must be, but surely he knows better than to hedge the little detective for anything more. “O-of course,” Takagi manages to say. He continues to stare for a few more seconds before turning his attention to the other more pressing thoughts in his mind.

In an attempt to return to the pretense of being a normal child, the first grader breaks out into a rough hum that sounds like a mediocre attempt at _Amazing Grace_. As he crosses his arms behind his head, he stops, noticing via screen that they are only on the 13th floor. The mental clock in his head is telling him that at least three minutes has passed since boarding. Only one question echoes in his mind, but he doesn’t voice it out loud.

The elevator stops for a moment before it suddenly jerks down and back onto its original course. Takagi and Conan grapple for the sides, turning a tiny bit green and giving each other twin looks of horror. The sergeant is the first to speak up.

“If we make it, we’re taking the stairs on our way down,” the man wheezes. “It’s good for exercise, right, Conan-kun?”

“R-right,” he says, forcing a laugh. His eyes dart back to the screen in the corner. 15th Floor. 16th. This ride could not go any slower—except it does; it at least feels that way when approximately five minutes later finds both man and child stumbling out of the elevator, flailing their arms in their mad rush to get off of the contraption; Tōichi can’t keep from laughing at the look of utter relief on both of their faces. Behind them, the door shudders to a close behind them and they both give it wary looks before turning their attention to their new location.

It’s a rather clean place bar the poor excuse for an elevator, Conan thinks.

Around one corner, a woman comes running up. She bows, stuttering out an apology as she meets Takagi’s gaze. Almost as soon as she finishes her ramblings, her eyes glance down at Conan. They make eye contact before she returns to addressing the sergeant. Seizing the opportunity, the detective takes a picture of her; he’ll call Haibara and ask her to email him all of the pictures later so he can look at them for himself.

“My name is Emiri ” she says, bringing a hand to her chest. She removes it and takes her tablet, holding it at a weird angle in front of her. “I’m Shibaura-san’s secretary.” She falters, which Conan attributes to her remembering her employer’s recent death. “If you will, I’ll guide you over to the Board. They’re currently holding a meeting down the hall.”

“Thank you, Emiri-san. I’m Wataru Takagi, but feel free to call me Takagi. Megure-keibu sent me to question everyone, as you may already know.” Conan tugs on the man’s suit jacket, garnering his attention. “And this is Conan-kun, my assistant for the next hour or so.”

She raises her brows before angling her head down to stare at him. The faux child grins back at her as she says, “A little young to be an assistant, isn’t he?”

“I guess it’s more accurate to say he’s like my boss,” Takagi says with a laugh as he pulls out his police notebook. “Conan-kun is a very intelligent boy. You tend to forget he’s just an elementary school student.”


	12. Chapter 12

Shibaura must have been an odd man, Conan supposes, to have placed much of his faith in these five people.

(“ _A little young to be an assistant, isn’t he?_ ”)

The detective finds himself rather confused as to why the late President would invest what must have been so much trust in the hands of these five people in particular. Why have they been singled out, he can’t help but wonder. With interest, he observes each of them, taking an individual picture when presented the chance. From the gist of it, it seems that they aren’t so much an executive board so much as they are the the president’s most trusted advisors—like the U.S. cabinet, he supposes.

He can’t be certain of what their starting positions were, but if Shibaura took them on when he began his role as president, then these people were either fresh out of high school or nearing that point or fresh into college. It’s not unusual for older students to begin jobs or internships at young ages so as to get a head start on a career or for experience that will look rather lovely to colleges and universities. Although, it’s rather odd for a high school student to even land an internship at such a distinguished electronics company such as Koshiba.

Aki Seiko, 27, is mousy and seems quite unsure of herself; Ikeda Fuyuki, 29, is a very serious man with booming confidence; Imai Akimitsu, 30, is quiet and solemn for his age; Sano Kozue, 28, is self-assured and a rather charming woman; Sugawara Gen, 29, is a man with a personality akin to Takagi’s.

Conan recognizes Imai and Sano from the news broadcast he had seen earlier, which means that they were the targets. He focuses on them, watching like a hawk behind his mask.

“Say, say, Shibaura-san must have really liked you guys!” Conan chirps, rocking on his heels. When Takagi asks what he means, the detective elaborates. “I mean, you guys aren’t even in your mid-thirties and he’s entrusted a lot of power to you guys. Isn’t that crazy?”

“Conan-kun has a point,” the sergeant says. “I expected people in their late thirties and higher to be working these positions. From what I’ve gathered, there are older people than you five working desk jobs among other things here.”

“We've had people put in some good words for us,” Ikeda says. Conan watches his eyes roam around as he shifts on his feet, placing large hands in the pockets of his slacks. “We’ve been working here as long as Shibaura’s been president.“

Takagi makes an odd face that mirrors the one Conan would be making if he weren’t busy trying to hide behind a carefully crafted pokerface. The man asks if the five of them have always been part of the executive board. This time, it’s Sano who replies with a short bark of laughter and a silky, “Of course not! We did get promoted from interns to this position after a few months and we’re all very thankful,“ as she inspects her nails.

And how exactly does one go from intern to executive in the span of months? Conan purses his lips, jotting down his own notes and observations. None of these people are fit for such a role. And he means no offense when he thinks that.

“Like Fuyuki said, we just had a good word and good luck,” Sugawara interjects. “Shibaura just really liked young people. Said he wanted us to thrive later in life.”

“Sure,” Imai mutters. “Shibaura is nothing but a dirty old coot. Personally, I’m glad he’s gone because it means I can quit this stupid job once and for all.”

“Akimitsu-kun!” Aki gasps as everyone else gives him some odd look. She looks to the sergeant. “H-he and Shibaura-san started butting heads two or three years ago.”

Sano laughs. “He’s just jealous that Fuyuki got to be Shibaura’s right-hand man,” she muses, giving him a coy look. “Isn’t that right?”

Conan raises his brows at the sudden tension in the room. Imai’s fists curl and his left arm trembles as he gives the woman an angry look. Takagi, at a lost for words, watched helplessly as the man scowls. “Like you‘re one to talk,” says Imai. “Since Fuyuki became that man’s favorite, he got the raise that you wanted. You’re such a selfish bi—”

“Hey, hey, can we all calm down?” Takagi says, frowning and looking a tiny bit overwhelmed. “Can someone just—”

“So, Imai-san has reason to kill Shibaura-san,” Conan says innocently, smiling as everyone turns eyes to him. “I mean, he stands to benefit from his death, right?” His grin turns feral as he narrows his eyes at them. “After all, he wasn’t willing to let any of you go.” His assumption is basically confirmed as he watches varying emotions flit through each and every face of the board. His expression then turns boyish as he looks up at the man he came along with. “Since Imai-san said that he can quit his job because Shibaura-san is dead, that must mean he couldn’t do so when Shibaura-san was alive, right, Takagi-keiji?”

“Ye-yeah,” stutters the sergeant. He looks at everyone. “Why did Shibaura-san not allow you to leave his company? You should be free to do so.” When no one answers, he turns to Emiri, who is lounging at the table on her tablet. “Emiri-san, do you know?”

The secretary looks up and pauses. “No,” she says, returning her eyes to the screen. “I have no idea.”

“Are you really suspecting one of us to have killed Shibaura?” Sano cries out in a shrill voice, completely avoiding Takagi’s question. “It couldn’t have been me! Wasn’t there a bomb at the panel? Why would I risk killing myself?” She digs into her pocket and pulls out a crumpled piece of paper. “I found this on my car when I went out for break the day before yesterday. Why would I send myself a threat?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my goodness. Pardon my language, but, this was fucking exhausting, oh dear. It should not have taken me this long to edit and reupload every chapter. :/
> 
> Sigh. I’ll thank myself later. Much later. Gah. I may have suffered, but so long as I don’t disappoint you guys, it’s all well and good.
> 
> But, _Spoilers Sweetie_ , I’ve introduced the culprit. Do you think you can figure it out? ;)
> 
> Also, never again will I introduce, like, six OCs. That’s just tiring. This is why I only write fanfiction and not my own original stories.
> 
> Anyway, thank you for reading and, once again, I am terribly sorry for the inconvenience due to my own sleep-deprived stupidity. :)


	13. Chapter 13

Threats—easy to make, easy to fake yet not something to be taken lightly. Conan narrows his eyes and takes his left hand in his right, taking a picture with the ring under the guise of scratching his hand. True to her word, Sano had indeed gotten a threat. Her hot pink coffin-shaped nails are jarring against the stark white of the paper and the monochrome blocks of cut out characters from what seems to be the pages of magazines if the glossy finish is anything to go by. And although he has the contents committed to memory, the picture will be a lovely reference.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Aki asks, her eyes wide. “Or at least report it?”

With gloved hands, Takagi takes the note from her and as soon as he does, Sano pulls her arms away so fast as though she’s been burned and crosses her arms as she throws her nose in the air. Conan feels his eyes twitch because he can’t fathom what possessed Shibaura to hire someone such as she; obviously, there must be a story behind that and to figure it out might mean a breakthrough in the case.

“I thought it was some childish prank,” says Sano, rolling her eyes. Sugawara lets out a string of unintelligible words following his, “A _prank_? What the actual—“

“ _Time to watch your back because you turned yours on us._ ” Takagi blinks and moves a hand to scratch the back of his head while he looks to the woman. “Do you have any idea what this means?” He turns to everyone as well, asking them the same question.

“Not at all,” she replies all too smoothly within the chorus of negatives from her coworkers. The voice and manner in which she delivers those words seems to have been rehearsed, Conan realizes as she continues on to say, “I’ve never turned my back on anyone. I may be pretty, but I’m an honest woman.”

And how exactly does vanity and verity even begin to correlate? The detective bites down on his tongue to refrain from saying anything. As he mulls over a few more details, Takagi articulates a, “Nothing at all?” as he looks to the others before inquiring if anyone else had gotten a note such as that.

In his head, Conan surmises that if Sano had gotten a threat, then Imai must have gotten one as well seeing as they both were present at the panel where the bomb was meant to go off. Slipping on his white fabric gloves while feigning a look of fascination or something of the like, he hops over and swipes the note from the sergeant’s grip, dancing around as Takagi flails his arms around to take it back.

“Whoa, kid, watch it,” Sugawara chastises as he steps back so Conan doesn’t trip on his foot. “Don’t hurt yourself.”

Holding the note up to the light, he calls out, “Ah-le-le! If Sano-san got a threat, shouldn’t Imai-san have gotten one since he was supposed to be at the mall with her?” With childish carelessness, he throws the paper in the air and his companion grabs it midair. During that moment, Conan goes over to yesterday’s other target and tugs on his sleeve. “Nē, nē! Did you get a note too? I mean, if the culprit is also after you, it’s only natural, right, Takagi-keiji?” In the midst of that last bit, he makes sure to turn his head to flash the sergeant a grin.

“Are you sure you’re the officer around here, Keiji-san?” Imai beseeches, scowling. He leers down at Conan, prompting him to release his hold on the fabric. “I swear, that kid’s made nothing but astute observations since you two walked trough the door.” The detective winces, moving to hide behind Takagi’s legs to compose himself. “And, no, I never got one—or at least, I never saw it. I bet she made that herself so I’d look suspicious when I never got one.”

“Oi oi, I am proud to tell you that I studied for years to get to where I am today,” Takagi boasts. “And for what reason would Sano-san have to want to place suspicion on you?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Ikeda answers, raising a brow. “They hate each other. Never got along and never will.” Neither Imai or Sano remonstrate with that sentiment and instead give each other small glares before looking away with a huff like feuding children. “If we’re being honest, not one of us gets along with everybody in this circle.”

“Ikeda-kun,” Aki says, her voice waning. She flushes. “I-I mean, it’s true that we all don’t get along, but it’s not unusual, ri-right?” She rubs an arm as she seems to curl in on herself. “It’s competitive here.”

Conan turns his back to them all and brings his left hand up to his chin in a thoughtful gesture. Why is it that Imai and Sano, two people who do not get along, choose to host an event together? And for what reason would there be competition? He looks to Tōichi, wondering if the other has any thoughts of his own, but he’s surprised to see the magician staring at Emiri, who has been sitting quietly in her lonesome. He makes a quiet sound to convey his curiousness and it attracts the man’s attention.

Tōichi apologizes and just says that he thought he saw a child somewhere in the hall as the door had been right next to her. Conan gives him an odd look because the chances of there being a child in the building aside from himself seems quite low. With a shrug, he returns his attention to the others in time to catch Sugawara saying, “No point in us staying, anyway, now that he’s gone,” with a pinched look on his face.

“I guess you’re right,” remarks Aki, twirling some hair as she bites her lip.

How interesting, Conan can’t help but think as he observes each expression.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What is it with me and accidentally deleting things? I’ve managed to delete comments while trying to mark them as read. Good job me. :/
> 
> Also, so, I got my hair cut and I hate it and school starts next month. :)))) Great.
> 
> Anyway, I wasn’t going to update, but I’m in such a bad mood so I decided to do some writing to see if I’d feel better. I don’t. This sucks. It’s a mess. Ugh. Someone just end me, please and thank you. I have a killer headache too. :/
> 
> Pessimism aside, thank you for taking time out of your day to read this! :)


	14. Chapter 14

Before he and Takagi leave, the latter obtains everyone’s phone numbers and contact information—address, email, and the like. Before he and Takagi leave, the former gives them his phone number and tells them to call him if they know something or encounter anything weird.

After getting his phone back, Conan asks Takagi if he can add everyone’s number to his phone. Before the man of the law can say no, he argues that he doesn’t want to accept a call to find a stranger on the other line. The other has no reason not to aside from the fact that Megure would discourage this, but anything the man doesn’t know won’t hurt.

“So, where am I taking you?” inquires Takagi as he pulls out of the parking lot. When Conan answers, the man purses his lips before recognition shows on his face. “Hey, I think I went drinking there once with the younger officers. Let’s see, I think from here I should take—”

“—a left and then drive straight until the small intersection where you’ll want to make a right,” says Conan, relaying to the man what Tōichi had said to him.

The detective combs through his messages for any new ones. As expected, there is one message from Hakuba. And a rather lengthy one at that. He skims and sees that the other is inquiring about his whereabouts and current wellbeing as he hadn’t sent anything more than a warning that he’ll be late to their rendezvous. Conan snorts and thumbs out a brief apology and saying that he’s now on his way and will be at The Blue Parrot in a few minutes.

“Nē, Takagi-keiji, did Yuminaga-keibu have any updates on the warehouse fire?” Conan inquires, pocketing his phone when he’s done inputting the numbers. “You must have heard something, right?”

“Erm, it’s a bit of an odd situation given that evidence of a bomb has been found and Yuminaga-keibu being inspector of the arson section.” Takagi makes a weird face. “But, ah, further investigation of Shibaura’s body shows signs of head trauma. I told you that already though, didn’t I? Though... they believe that he had been hit in two different places, but it’s the one on the back that killed him since the frontal one could not have been hard enough to do more than render him unconscious.”

(A bit of sympathy goes out to Shibaura as the little detective remembers that night in Tropical Land when Gin had almost bashed his head in.)

“Eh?” Conan takes the new information, filing it away. So, not one, but two blows to the head? He wonders if that means anything. Though, it’s quite possible that the culprit just saw that his or her first hit hadn’t been enough and went in for the kill. “Has the weapon been found?”

Takagi shakes his head while effectuating a righthand turn at the intersection. “It probably burned in the fire,” he says before asking which way to go now. “Or the culprit took it away to hide any fingerprints.”

That makes sense, Conan supposes. “Just drop me off at the next intersection if you can. I can get there on my own with my skateboard.” He grins. “Then just keep driving straight and the nearest exit should bring you back to Headquarters if that’s where you’re headed.”

The sergeant frowns, but agrees with the plan as he’s apparently due back as soon as he finished questioning. While stopped at a red light, Conan climbs out of the car with a quick thanks and throws his skateboard onto the sidewalk. As he places himself on top, he adjusts his backpack and presses down on the button, cruising past the pedestrians while Tōichi directs him on where to go.

Conan asks how the man knows of this place. The magician only says, “It was a hang out of sorts,” before telling him that he should tread a bit carefully.

Minutes later, the detective finds himself in front of a billiards bar. Something tells him that he shouldn’t be forgetting this place anytime in the unforeseeable future. Conan lets himself in, attracting the gaze of three people and one of which being Kaito and the other teenager he can venture to guess is Hakuba Saguru; however, he can’t place a name to the old man standing behind the bar’s counter.

“Ah, Edogawa Conan-kun, it’s a pleasure to finally meet the acclaimed Kid Killer,” says Hakuba, sliding off of the barstool.

“Oh? So this is that kid,” Kaito remarks. “A little small, isn’t he?”

Hakuba sniffs. “Perhaps it takes a kid to beat a Kid,” says he while extending a hand towards his fellow detective. “I mean no offense, Edogawa-kun.”

Conan smirks for a brief moment before he retreats behind a boyish grin. “Nice to meet you, Hakuba-niichan!” He peers behind him while shaking the other’s large hand with a firm grip. “Are they detectives too?”

Kaito laughs before a cloud of smoke envelopes his person and he appears behind Conan on one knee faster than the latter can comprehend; he knows what the trick is though. “My name,” says the magician, turning the little detective around, “is Kuroba Kaito and I’m a magician.”

Risking a brief glance at Tōichi, Conan can see a look bordering between a fond man and a proud father. His eyes soften as he watches the expression hide behind a poker face. Kaito follows that gaze to look over his own shoulder in the general direction where his father stands.

“Did you see something?” asks Kaito, standing up to brush off his pants. “Anyway, that there polishing glasses is Jii-chan. He agreed to let this bastard meet with you here since it’s a little closer to home than anywhere in Ekoda. I’m just here because, well, I want to be.”

“Ignore him,” Hakuba drawls before chastising the other for cursing in front of a child. “There are a few questions I have for you about the incident yesterday afternoon.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I had to do a bit of editing because at first it was thought that the fire at the warehouse had been just that, meaning Yuminaga would most likely be the responding inspector. I think. Whoops. Details. :)
> 
> Also, I told myself that I should take a break from writing but writing is literally the only thing I have to enjoy right now ( _write_ now, hehe) so here I am with another update.
> 
> But, oh!! The two chapters I already have prewritten? I get to post them in about three chapters and I’m so excited. :)
> 
> Anyway, I’m going to have to exceed 45 chapters if I wish to do some more character development with our suspects. That’s fine, I guess. Still, I’ll keep the 45 chapter tag until I establish the final count.
> 
> Btw, there’s a bit of foreshadowing of sorts in this chapter. ;)


	15. Chapter 15

Due to insistence on the part of Jii and Kaito, the little detective climbs onto a stool and orders an iced coffee. The three make small talk with him until the iced coffee is made. Conan sips on it with a content smile; it’s been a while since he’s had some caffeine. Ran doesn’t mind too much, but she does find it a bit weird that a young boy who hasn’t even entered secondary school prefers coffee over juice. She does, however, limit his intake as she claims it stunts growth.

No one says anything until he’s drained about half of the glass. When he dislodges his lips from the straw, Hakuba is quick to bombard him with questions, but not before elaborating more on why he’s called the younger detective over.

“My father managed to obtain some information about yesterday’s happenings,” says Hakuba, leafing through a small notebook; its pages look a little worn and seems to have been used a number of times if the way the paper fans out is any indication. “He heard that you were the one to defuse the bomb. Of course, your name has remained out of press due to your age.”

Jii pauses in the middle of polishing a rather delicate looking wine glass. He looks down at Conan, who is currently sipping nonchalantly on his drink with a practiced look of indifference. “If I’m not mistaken, you’re the boy who defused the bomb a few months back,” he remarks, observing the little boy before him. “It was inside an elevator in Tokyo Tower, right?”

“Y-yeah! It was scary, but Takagi-keiji read the instructions to me,” he says, slipping easily into the voice of a fairly traumatized child.

Behind the old man, Kaito is juggling five beer glasses with one hand, somehow polishing them as he does so. “I bet you didn’t even need the instructions,” he says, eyes gleaming with some sort of accusatory shine. “You obviously didn’t have them when you defused the bomb yesterday.”

Conan falls silent. He knows that he can trust Kaito, but what about Hakuba and Jii? Tōichi seems to sense his hesitation because the man says, “I’ve no idea what of Hakuba-kun, but I know for a fact that you can trust Jii-san. The most harm he’ll do is tell Kaito to watch his back around you.”

“I learned how to defuse a bomb when I was”—younger, but he can’t say that around any of them—“living in America.”

Hakuba hums. “By whom? And for what reason? And how long ago was this? You have a Tokyo accent unbefitting of a child who grew up in America, don’t you?” He shakes his head. “You can answer that later, actually. I’d prefer to ask you more about this case.” He pulls out a pen. “Is there anything you can tell me?”

Kaito gives the part-time Londoner a look. “You don’t specialize in bombs, Hakuba,” he points out. “What reason do you have to stick your nose in this?” He nods his head towards Conan while vanishing the glasses in his hands. “He’s just a kid. He probably has better things to do with his time than talk to you.”

“I spoke with the people believed to be both suspects and targets,” Conan interrupts when he senses an oncoming argument. “Takagi-keiji let me tag along.”

The other detective nods and readies his pen. He looks at Conan and asks if he can name them all. In the middle of him telling the child that it’s okay if he doesn’t remember, said child begins spouting off names, ages, and physical descriptions without batting an eyelash.

After all, he feels like this may be the beginnings of a temporary partnership, which means he can’t have them underestimating him. When finished, he sips the rest of his coffee and asks if he may have more. Then, Conan begins to describe the man he had met in the mall. Just as he’s about to end, Tōichi speaks.

“That man might have been a woman in disguise,” says he. “There was something odd that I couldn’t place. It took me a while as I saw the obvious disguise. The way they carried themselves and the odd pitch of that voice suggests it might be a woman.”

Conan says as much to the others. A woman, huh? He frowns, bringing his legs close to his chest and placing his hands together; it requires a great deal of balance to keep from falling off of the stool. Why go to such great lengths? Just a normal disguise would have sufficed so why bother dressing as the opposite sex? He wants to ask Tōichi what he thinks, but he can’t do so now for obvious reasons.

“I believe the suspects have a connection that runs deeper than simply being President Shibaura-san’s quote-unquote cabinet,” he declares. “You must have noticed how young they are. They claim to have been interns ten years ago, only to be promoted months after joining the company.”

“I see,” says Hakuba, realizing the implications. “The Truth always comes to light. Perhaps, we shall be the beacons, Edogawa-kun.”

The beacons of justice, Conan thinks.

“I’m here too,” Kaito pipes up. “And Jii-chan. We’re here too.”

Ignoring the teenage magician, Conan decides that he rather likes this Hakuba. Sure, the other detective is a little reminiscent of his old self: arrogant and self-assured, but that’s something he can overlook in favor of working with someone who isn’t as hotheaded as Heiji is. Speaking of which, he’s almost certain that the Detective of the West will be calling him soon; he has a way of hearing things about the shrunken sleuth through the grapevine.

“You don’t mind that I’m a child?” he asks, raising his brows as he plays with the straw of his now-refilled drink.

“If it weren’t for the voice and body, I’d think you were more than just a child, Edogawa-kun.”

Conan almost chokes on his refill of iced coffee.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Conan’s story is full of more holes than Swiss cheese and I’m surprised not that many people call him out on it. So, Agasa can’t take Conan in, but he can take Haibara in?
> 
> So, here, we have Conan slipping into his not-so-childish mode. Hakuba is a little curious, but he’d prefer to focus on the more explosive mystery. Kaito knows that there is something more to Conan and wants to figure it out. Jii is just concerned about his young master’s wellbeing in the presence of the tiny little devil detective.
> 
> Anyway, so, if you’re confused by Tōichi’s suggestion of the man actually being a woman in disguise: The obvious disguise is the jacket and shapeless pants and the wig and the voice. He knew something was off, but it was mostly just a fleeting thought of, “Hey, this person is in disguise,” but he doesn’t see that there could be more to it than just shapeless clothes.
> 
> The clothes hide the body shape well. The voice is pitched oddly to disguise the fact that it’s not a man, but a woman.
> 
> So he thinks, anyway. It’s just a suggestion. The man could be an actual man. ;)
> 
> *Note, when Conan says Hakuba reminds him of his old self, he’s referring to when he had been a child prior to age 9. He’s still a tad bit arrogant and self-assured, but he mellowed out due to the circumstances in his first childhood.


	16. Chapter 16

Before Ran even wakes, Conan slips out of the Agency with his schoolbag in tow and a brief letter of apology to his guardians for his early departure. He dons his trademark outfit bar the suit jacket, which is carefully folded inside his schoolbag in such a way that it won’t retain any wrinkles. His bow tie hangs out of his pocket and his button-up is only buttoned up to the second to last button; he feels all choked up right now, which is why he left.

“It’s odd seeing Kaito outside of his work outfit,” he comments, smirking. He keeps his voice low even though there is almost no one else out. “You must be proud of him.”

“More than you know,” says Tōichi, hands sliding into his pockets. “Is it a good idea for you to be walking alone at this hour, Shinichi-kun?”

“The sounds of Otchan’s snoring were getting to me.” Conan sighs. “I couldn’t sleep. I’m sure you noticed that I spent almost the entire night averaging out how many times he snores every minute.”

The detective mirrors the magician, slipping his hands into his own pockets and pressing forward. He thinks to the case. This very feeling always occurs whenever something bad is about to happen—it happened at the mall. His mind can only string together a near baseless idea that another bomb might go off today, but it’s not like he can say that some absurd premonition is the reason for his deduction; it happens all the time though. People basing their thoughts on gut feelings and the like, that is.

(He debates on whether or not tell someone, but who is there to tell? Takagi would surely believe him, but not before asking him why he’d think so. Hakuba is a bit of a stretch as he seems to be the type of detective who only think with actual evidence.)

Conan thinks to yesterday beginning after he had left The Blue Parrot. With some guidance from Tōichi, he made his way to Agasa’s house, where Haibara was waiting for him. She had managed to run the pictures through some sort of facial recognition scan (—where she even obtained the means to using such a program is a question he won’t be asking anytime soon—) and manages to find a single link between the lot of them.

Mitsuaki Electronics.

He remembers the company’s tale: the company had fallen into debt not long after rising to great success; the debt had been so high that the president couldn’t keep up and eventually the company died out and the president disappeared.

According to the résumés and other _public_ documents, all five of the board members had interned there for only a few months before dropping out around the same time just before the fall of the company. Not long after, they all were hired as interns at Shibaura’s company before moving up the food chain at a rather suspicious rate.

This is also around the same time that Koshiba Company found some sort of financial windfall that gave them the money and means to become a successful business.

Conan doesn’t have any proof that they did anything, but he has his suspicions. He just... he just needs proof—proof that those five managed to siphon money from the other company to give to Shibaura—maybe even some information as well. Sure, an intern is at the very bottom of the ladder, but that’s the brilliance behind it! No one would suspect that a lowly intern would be doing such a thing.

But if that’s true, then who’s the culprit? Would one of those five really wish to reveal a crime dating back to ten years ago? Conan stops in the middle of the sidewalk and purses his lips. Aki Seiko... mousy and quiet. She seems like the type who does not deal very well with guilt, but would she really kill? Ikeda Fuyuki is confident, but the serious air says he knows how to keep a secret. Imai Akimitsu seems to be the quiet man who lets his feelings simmer on the back burner for so long that it explodes. Sano Kozue is the type of woman who only cares for herself. Sugawara Gen is just unbefitting of a culprit.

Still, he knows better than to assume without solid evidence.

That’s right, Emiri Honaka is to be considered a suspect as well given that she was Shibaura’s secretary. Haibara found that the woman spent most of her life overseas in South America. She had turned in an application for the position as the late president’s secretary not long after she had returned to Japan.

“—ichi-kun, _breathe_.”

Conan gasps, his chest heaving as he realizes his mistake. “Sorry, I forgot. I’ve just been thinking about what Haibara managed to find,” he says, continuing on his walk. Maybe, if the gates are open, he’ll feed the class fish since it’s a given that he’s going to arrive early.

In his pocket, his phone buzzes. Conan pulls it out and looks at the caller. “Hakuba-niichan?”

“ _Oh, good morning, Edogawa-kun. Judging by your tone of voice, I believe it’s safe to assume that I did not wake you. I was wondering if you’d like to accompany me as I meet with each of the board members individually—this afternoon, of course. I know this isn’t my case, nor is it yours, technically, but I’d like to discuss a few things with you._ ”

He checks his mental schedule. “Uh-huh, I’m free. Is Kaito-niichan going to be there too?”

“ _I actually wish to speak with you about Kuroba-kun, too. I figured it would be rather mundane to just speak with you about him, hence the investigations of sorts. If he tags along, then I suppose I’ll have to arrange another rendezvous. No point in letting this opportunity go to waste and there’s no stopping him. I’ve acquired the suspects’ addresses._ ”

“Oh? Well, I need to get going. See you later, Hakuba-niichan.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Does anyone else ever forget to breathe?
> 
> So, I did a bit of editing to my chapter agenda. I’ve even written one of the final chapters. This fic is going to steer us in the Org arc of this series. I took some inspiration from one of the earlier DCMK movies. ;)
> 
> Anyway, next chapter, we’ll meet with some of the suspects. Kaito may or may not tag along.
> 
> All right. I’ll edit anything tomorrow. Today. Later. I’m dead tired.
> 
> Edit: So, I decided to give Hakuba a reason to become a part of this investigation. Since said reason includes Kaito, I’m sure we all know what that means. ;)


	17. Chapter 17

Ayumi asks Conan if he’s going to join them over at the Professor’s for some cake and video games. With that puppy dog look she gives him, he almost agrees, but he’s already texted Hakuba to tell him the school’s address. When he declines, the girl frowns and before she can ask him why, the detective claims to be tired; he did come early to feed the fish, after all, he reminds her. Upon hearing that, she shoves him towards the door, telling him to get some rest.

Like the devil she is, Haibara snickers and says, “My, won’t Yoshida-san make the perfect doting wife, Edogawa-kun?” as she passes by, making sure to elbow him with a teasing smirk. Conan doesn’t get to make a snide comment in reply as Ayumi makes a break for it, dragging the other girl along with her.

Mitsuhiko and Genta walk up, brows raised and just as confused as he is. The former tells Conan that, “If you change your mind, we’ll be at Hakase’s until six,” before jogging after the two girls. Genta calls out, telling them to wait before informing the detective that he’s going to be missing out on cake and curry.

“You guys have fun, all right?” he simply says before bidding the larger boy his farewell until tomorrow. Conan glances down at his watch. Hakuba has said that he’ll be arriving by car and the distance between Beika and Ekoda won’t be that long. He’ll just need to hang around for a little while longer until the other detective pulls up somewhere.

He turns back to the classroom, which is empty as all the students have since left and Kobayashi has gone to the teacher’s lounge for one reason or another. The fish have been fed and everything’s been cleaned and tucked away.

“I wonder what Hakuba-kun wishes to discuss with me,” he murmurs. “Seeing as it involves Kaito, I’d assume he has some suspicions that Kaito is Kid. After all, Hakuba-kun does work with Nakamori-keibu to apprehend him.”

“We’ll find out soon, won’t we?” Tōichi responds, his voice betraying nothing of his inner thoughts.

Soon comes approximately forty minutes later. The two had invested the time in a quiet exchange, murmuring to each other about whatever thoughts floated through their heads. Conan finished his homework in the record time of thirteen minutes; even a deaged high schooler needs to spend more than five minutes producing a brief written response and sometimes it pays off to double check even the simplest of math problems because Haibara and the kids would never let him live it down if he were to score less than perfect on the worksheet.

Conan watches a car roll up and hears the click of the doors unlocking. The backdoor closest to him swings open and he sees Kaito grinning at him with a small wave. Withholding a frown, he slides inside and places his schoolbag on the floor. Twisting his torso, he pulls the door shut with both hands and buckles himself in as the driver begins to press down on the gas pedal.

“Good afternoon, Hakuba-niichan, Kaito-niichan,” says he in polite greeting. “You too, Obāsan. Thank you for picking me up.”

“Such a well-mannered young boy,” says the driver, gazing at him through the rear view mirror with eyes surrounded by wrinkles. “Are you certain that your parents won’t mind you not going straight home after school?”

“Don’t worry, Obāsan, I don’t live with my parents and Kogoro-ojīsan and Ran-nēchan don’t mind as long as I make it home before bedtime.” Well, Ran prefers for him to be home by dinner time, but she’s learned that he’s responsible enough to eat when he knows he won’t be home; that’s all due to Tōichi acting as a doting father of sorts, but she doesn’t know that.

Kaito hums. “A little odd for a kid your age to live with people who are neither your parents or people in some sort of familial relation to you,” he remarks. “At least, I’ve heard that they aren’t family in terms of blood or name.”

Conan bristles, trying to avoid looking suspicious. “My parents were in an accident shortly after coming to Japan and my only relative is in no condition to take care of me,” he says, his voice moving slower than he’d like. “My relative knows the Mouris and asked if it were possible for them to take care of me in his stead while my parents are recovering.”

“You seem to be taking the situation rather well,” Hakuba notes, piping up from his spot in the passenger seat. “I must admit that even I would be rather distraught if I were in such a spot at your age. You’re remarkably mature for a first grader.”

And that’s because he isn’t one. “Nē, If Kaito-niichan isn’t a detective, why is he here?” The driver’s reason is easy to deduce as no one under the age of 18 can get a license unless it’s that of a motorcycle one, which is obtainable at the age of 16. “Doesn’t he have better things to do?” 

“Oi, how rude,” the magician responds, reaching over to pinch one of Conan’s cheeks. “Is there a law saying I can’t be here?”

“Not that you have any regard for it,” murmurs Hakuba under his breath. Had Conan not needed to keep up the pretense that he has no clue of the suspicions of Kaito being Kid, he’d snicker. “My apologies, Edogawa-kun. It appears that he snuck in when Baya and I weren’t looking. I’m afraid he overheard me telling one of our classmate’s that I would be missing out on a study group to meet up with you.”

Conan nods, shifting his eyes over to watch Kaito jiggle what appears to be seven small cloth balls. “It’s okay.” He looks to the rear view mirror, making eye contact with the other detective. “I found something I think you’ll find interesting about our suspects.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes I forget that I still have trouble remembering when it’s appropriate to use a semicolon and end up using them anyway because they’re cool.
> 
> I was hoping for the two chapter I’ve prewritten to be posted by now, but I wish to develop Conan’s relationship with the other characters. Plus, this set-up works best to my advantage.
> 
> But yo, school is starting up after Labor Day for me and the thought of it has almost sent me into panic attacks twice now. :/ I’ve no idea why I’m so nervous. Though, school stresses me out horribly so I’m not that surprised.
> 
> Next chapter, we’re jumping into a meeting. I’ve no idea how this is going to work out though.
> 
> Btw, the real reason for Kaito joining Hakuba is because he knows that the latter wants to discuss Kid’s identity with Conan.


	18. Chapter 18

Approximately nineteen minutes ago they arrived at Aki Seiko’s house.

Conan isn’t quite as stingy with time as Hakuba seems to be, but he’s been counting the seconds because the urge to claw at his neck leaves him restless and antsy to leave. He’s busied himself with listening on to Hakuba interrogate the skittish Aki with questions not unlike those he and Takagi asked of her. A while ago, he tuned out Kaito, letting the magician work on some trick that involve two scarves and a pencil in the corner.

“Aki-san, can you tell me about your internship prior to the one at Koshiba?” Hakuba inquires, leaning forward towards the woman as though doing so will aid in catching every word that spills from her lips.

With fingers twitching towards his neck, the little detective watches her expression. He catches a flash of emotion that gets smothered under a mask of confusion. Conan sits up a bit straighter as she echoes, “Previous internship?” in a voice that shakes. “I’ve done a few internships. I-I’m afraid you’ll have to be more specific. Please.”

Although he feels like he’s suffocating, Conan pipes up. “Mitsuaki Electronics,” he says, his voice sounding more strained than he’d like. “At age 17, you applied for an internship and became one of five qualifiers. Not even a year after, the five of you resign and the company loses all stability. The president couldn’t keep up and the debt piled high. He disappeared, didn’t he?” He licks his lips. “Along with the other four, you were hired as interns at Koshiba.”

In her seat, Aki bristles, unable to hide the look in her eyes that makes it evident that she feels she’s been backed into a corner. “It-it’s unfortunate what happened to Hayashi-san—and his family,” she says, speaking slow as though she’s choosing her words with care. “I am eternally grateful to Shibaura-san and his generous promotion.” She locks eyes with Conan. “I would never kill him.”

Right. He had more or less accused not only her but the other four of wanting to kill Shibaura back at the company building. Conan bursts out into nervous laughter as he slides off his seat. “To-toilet! Where is it?” he asks, jumping from one foot to the other.

She offers directions, telling him to cross through the kitchen and down the hall. He bows as a sign of thanks before speeding off. With little difficulty, he finds the bathroom and shuts the door behind him, leaning against it as he all but rips open his button-up. In the car, Hakuba had given him furtive glances until he buttoned up his shirt properly; it does nothing to ease the suffocating feeling.

“She didn’t do it,” he says, his voice sound and sure. “She didn’t kill Shibaura, but she did do something.”

“It would do her well to work on her poker face,” Tōichi remarks. “Just as you must, Shinichi-kun.”

“Thanks.” Conan gives the man a deadpan stare with a critical eye before sighing. “For lack of better terms, Aki seems too skittish to kill a man. I know she wasn’t lying when she said she would never kill Shibaura.” He narrows his eyes. “Still, she was definitely dancing around something when we asked about the Mitsuaki situation.”

Tōichi nods in agreement, commenting about how she might not have what it takes to steal a life, she could be capable of stealing information. Conan hums, thinking back to his theory; it makes sense, but he doesn’t have solid proof.

Shifting on his feet and flexing his fingers, the bespectacled boy sighs before he moves past Tōichi to flush the toilet. After all, he had said that he needed to use the restroom and it’s possible that one can hear the flush from the room everyone else is in. He stares at himself in the mirror while washing his hands, dropping his own poker face as he’s only in the presence of Tōichi and the man has never faulted him for being human.

“Are you all right, Shinichi-kun? You seem restless.”

“Just have a bad feeling, that’s all.” He snorts, buttoning up his shirt; he hates how choked up he feels. “You know how it is by now. I just have a feeling that something bad is going to happen—usually when someone dies, but hopefully that’s not the case.” He tugs on his collar. “Nothing I can’t manage.”

Exiting, Conan pushes his poker face back into place, scratching at his neck as he passes through the kitchen. Now that he isn’t in a rush, he takes notice of a bag on the counter that stops him in his tracks. He recognizes it to be from the same cake shop that that man had bought a cake from. The top, he notices, is stapled shut and he furrows his brows. He doubts that Aki is the one who had planted the bomb in the mall, but he can’t be too careful.

Rushing into the other room, he finds that Aki is tidying up; it seems that Hakuba and Kaito must have gone back to the car.

“Oh, Conan-kun, your brother and your friend told me to tell you that they’re waiting for you in the car,” she says upon noticing him.

“Kaito-niichan isn’t—anyway, Aki-san, can you tell me where you got that cake from? The one in the bag in the kitchen?”

She frowns. “O-oh, that? Is it a cake? I got it at work earlier today. Would you like a slice?”

Before Conan can say anything more, a hand seizes his wrist and he sees Kaito looking down at him while saying something about how Hakuba is nagging about how they can make it to two other’s houses before it gets too late if they get a move on in the next five minutes—or something to that effect.

The detective stumbles, looking over his shoulder and calling out to the woman, telling her to call him if anything happens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops. Just realized I didn’t include end notes. :p
> 
> So, Conan has a rather sharp understanding of criminal psychology, meaning he can tell if someone is the true culprit and what not. For now, at least, he doesn’t believe Aki has what it takes to pull any of this off.


	19. Chapter 19

“You’re certain you don’t want anything more filling, Edogawa-kun?” Hakuba asks, looking at Conan’s glass of iced coffee and plate of lemon pie. “I assure you, I’m more than happy to cover everything.”

The little detective beams up at him, nodding as he cups his hands around his choice of drink in a manner Tōichi claims is defensive. “Yeah! I’m not very hungry,” he says because with an invisible noose around his neck, it’s hard to eat let alone breathe. “Thank you, Hakuba-niichan!” Just as he’s about to slice off the tip of his lemon pie with the side of his fork, someone slides a small helping of salad next to his hand.

“Little boys should eat more so that they can grow,” remarks Ikeda, the man that they had come to visit. “I have a son. He’s twelve, but he’s been in and out of the hospital. You should be lucky for your health.” He shakes his head before flashing him this smile that’s sad and small before looking towards Hakuba with a look of disdain. “You wanted to question me? What, are you with the police?”

Conan blinks, barely registering as the other detective begins his interrogation. Ikeda has a son who is twelve years of age, placing Ikeda at roughly the age of seventeen at the time of conception, which means he had become a teenage father. And he can say with utmost confidence that very few teenagers can afford to successfully support themselves so it’s not very likely that any teenage parents will have the easiest time caring for themselves and a child, even with financial support from parents and other family members.

He recalls that the rate of teen pregnancy is one of the lowest if not the lowest in Japan, so it’s not very common for teenagers to get pregnant. For a high schooler to raise a child, the situation must have been rocky. Conan can’t even begin to imagine how difficult it must have been, especially if neither Ikeda nor the bearer of his child were financially stable enough to support themselves.

“I took on the Mitsuaki internship because I needed money to pay for my son’s surgery,” says Ikeda, picking at his own salad. “I thought that if I was lucky, they’d choose me to hire and the pay from the internship itself would help, even if it couldn’t cover all the costs.” His face twists into something before disappearing moments later. “My parents disowned me when I told them that Sachiko was pregnant with my child. Her parents weren’t that well off, but they adore their grandson, so they could only pay for so much.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Kaito murmurs, lowering his double scoop cone of chocolate ice cream. “Your son is lucky to have a father such as yourself.”

Conan gauges Tōichi’s reaction for a moment, concerned that the man might find something sad inside those words his own son had spoken. The older magician is impassive as ever, wearing a poker face that the detective has trouble seeing through. He returns his gaze to Ikeda before dropping it to stare at the salad in front of him.

“Yeah,” Ikeda replies. “I guess it’s best that I start looking for a new job. Shibaura hasn’t named anyone as vice president and currently has no one who’s available to take over. It won’t be long until the company falls over.”

“You mean now that Shibaura-san’s gone, you’re free to do whatever you want, right?” Conan pipes up, trying to defuse the new atmosphere around them; it’s too depressing for his liking. “I hope you find a nice job, Ikeda-san.”

Hakuba raises his brows, eyes lighting up with curiosity. “Edogawa-kun, it sounds as though you’re implying that Shibaura-san would not let his employees quit.”

When it looks like Ikeda is about to object, the little detective goes, “Maybe not all his employees,” before casting an innocent look towards the board member and saying, “Just his executive board.”

Just as Ikeda is about to reply, Shinichi’s phone starts buzzing in Conan’s pocket. Pulling it out, he sees a very familiar name flashing on the screen and he excuses himself, pushing his chair out and looking around for the nearest restroom. He sees it across the large room and runs over, dodging chairs and legs in his haste to hide himself in a stall.

Throwing himself inside, he presses the accept button.

“Oi, Hattori,” he mutters. “What is it that you need? I’m in the middle of something right now.”

“ _Oh, chin up, Kudō. Can’t a guy call up his pals from time to time?_ ” A sigh. “ _I heard ‘bout whatcha did in Ekoda from Otaki-han and Oyajī. I’m willin’ ta bet that ya got yerself inta somethin’ interestin’. I waited for ya ta call, but ya never did._ ”

“Sorry,” Conan snarks, leaning against the stall door. “I wasn’t aware that I have to update you on every little thing that goes on in my life.”

On the other side of the phone, Heiji scoffs before yelling, “ _Lil? Kudō, a bomb isn’t lil—ya coulda died! Yer lucky ya found it in time and defused it. Man, everythin’ excitin’ always happens around ya, huh?_ ”

Sighing through his nose, the not-child runs a hand through his hair. Just as he’s about to make some sort of retort, he gets the idea to ask the other for a favor. After all, Heiji usually has more luck getting access to certain things and finding out certain details—even more so than Haibara, sometimes. Speaking of, he needs her to send him the pictures he took for he’d like to see them himself.

With a mission under his belt, the Osakan hangs up. Conan slides his phone back into his pocket with a smirk.

“I still wonder who that little boy back then had been,” Tōichi remarks, referring to the child he claims to have seen back at the company building.

“That again, Tōichi-san?” Conan says.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My sincerest apologies for it has been almost a week since I last updated. Writer’s block. I had no idea how to write this chapter.
> 
> Oh my, we’re almost at 20 chapters! Even though every chapter is only 1k words, I’m quite proud of myself. I really want this to be the first fic I’ve written and completed that’s more than simply five chapters.
> 
> Anyway, Hattori has arrived! I did hint at it in Chapter 15. He may or may not appear in person, depending on whether or not I have to alter my agenda.
> 
> Also, part of me wants for Kaito to have walked in during Hattori’s yelling, only to overhear Conan saying Tōichi’s name. It only makes me think about how Kaito would react, knowing that Conan has known his father for years. If we ever get to the reveal of that, I can only imagine what might happen.
> 
> But okay, we’re gonna get to the scenes I’ve prewritten, which is very exciting for me. I’ve no idea how you guys will feel about them, but I did my best while writing them. :p


	20. Chapter 20

Conan stares at the bandages peeking out from Imai Akimitsu’s right sleeve. He wonders if the man had those on during their first meeting as the other had been wearing 3/4 sleeves as opposed to the short sleeves he’s wearing today. He thinks to ask the man what sort of injury he’s sustained, but judging from the way Imai keeps dodging answers, it’s likely that that question will go unanswered.

“Imai-san, I ask you again: why did you and the others resign from your internships at Mitsuaki Electronics before they were over?”

Imai is also tugging down on his sleeve when Hakuba isn’t looking. Both Conan and Kaito have yet to comment.

“Because we can do whatever we want.”

(People usually keep first aid kits and the like in places such as the kitchen, where it’s usually dry and has a sink readily available for washing any wounds; bathrooms can become too humid, which may affect the quality and life of items that can be found inside the kits.)

“Nē, nē, Imai-san, may I have a drink?” he asks, interrupting Hakuba as he’s in the middle of repeating his question concerning the man’s relationship with his deceased boss. “I can get it myself.”

“Kid, I keep all the juice on the top shelf of the fridge,” says Imai, getting ready to stand. “I don’t think you can—”

“I’ll get it for him,” Kaito interjects, standing up and holding a hand out towards the little detective. “Come on, Conan-kun, let’s leave those two alone. Maybe Imai-san will be more willing to talk and you can choose which juice to get.”

Although he’s put-off at the idea of holding hands with Kaito, Conan relents, letting his small hand slip inside the magician’s bigger one. Next to him, Tōichi laughs as he drinks up the expression on the boy’s face. With little difficulty, the three of them find the kitchen. As soon as Kaito moves to open the fridge, the shrunken sleuth pulls his hand out of the other’s grasp and begins looking around.

When Kaito opens his mouth, presumably to ask him what he’s looking for, Conan lifts a finger to his lips. First, he walks over to one of the counters and clambers on top, getting on his knees as he begins to open cabinets. He feels that a man with Imai’s height of roughly 185 centimeters would try to refrain from placing an important object such as a medical kit in a space closer to the floor.

“Conan-kun, what are you doing?” Kaito hisses, placing both hands on his hips. “I thought you wanted juice.”

“Just ask me what I want,” Conan whispers, closing another cabinet without so much as a light tap. He opens up a third one and peers in and grins. There it is! He reaches inside, pulling out the kit and setting it down on the counter beside him.

“What do you need a first aid kit for?” Kaito inquires, coming closer to whisper in his ear. “You didn’t injure yourself, did you? I’m sure Imai-san wouldn’t have minded letting you use it. No need to lie about wanting juice.”

In a louder voice to keep up the guise, Conan says, “Kaito-niichan, does Imai-san have any canned coffee? I want canned coffee.” In a hushed voice, he continues. “Imai-san is injured and I’m not sure if he’d want to tell us how; it could be relevant to the case, right?”

Kaito hums, looking at the contents. “You think you can piece it together by looking to see what he’s used?” He shakes his head. “You can’t be sure from that. It’s possible that he’s running low on supplies or that he took them out.”

Conan ignores him. Bandages are running low, he notices. There’s something sticky coating some of the interior. Combing through with his eyes, he sees a bottle of aloe vera with its cap having been carelessly left open. He sits up straighter, looking around the kitchen. Near the sink, there’s a glass and a bottle. The detective brings a hand to his glasses, using the magnifying lens to zoom in while Kaito is distracted with placing the kit away.

Pain medication?

(Pain medication, aloe vera, and bandages. Pain. Burns. _Burns_. Maybe not third-degree, but it has to be some sort of burn.)

Imai might have been burned, he comes to realize. And on the arm as well. Conan frowns, sliding off the counter as Kaito closes the cabinet door. Before the magician can ask what conclusion he comes up with, the detective spins around, throwing his hands up in the air as he says, “Kaito-niichan, you’re taking too long! I want canned coffee!”

“All right, all right,” says the other, ambling on towards the fridge. Opening it, he looks to the shelf lined with cans and tells him that there doesn’t seem to be any canned coffee to which Conan replies by telling him anything is fine. Kaito pulls out the closest thing (—a can of melon soda—) and tosses it behind him. “Satisfied now, Conan-kun?”

Nodding, he tentatively opens up the can, pointing it away from him in case it explodes from the way Kaito had just tossed it behind him. “Thank you, Kaito-niichan.”

The magician just sighs, taking Conan’s hand and guiding them back as the latter sips on his drink. He doesn’t drink soda very often, so when he does, it burns his throat.

“I hated Shibaura,” he hears Imai say. Both boys halt, standing in the doorway behind the man. Hakuba gives them a warning with a leveled stare. “He was nothing but a liar and a fraud. And now that he’s dead, I can finally do anything I want.”

“And why do you say that, Imai-san?” Hakuba asks, readying his pen. “Edogawa-kun has brought it to my attention that Shibaura-san would not let his executive board leave. Is there a reason for that, I wonder.”

“Easy,” says Imai. “Shibaura bribed all of us to ruin Hayashi-san’s company.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 20 Chapters. Go me.
> 
> So, Conan’s theory has been more or less confirmed: The board had a hand in Mitsuaki Electronics’ fall.
> 
> Unless next chapter doesn’t go as planned, we’re going to reach a sort of climax moment after? I’m so excited. And nervous. I’m not sure if the scenes I’ve written are good, but whatever.
> 
> Oh, I edited my chapter agenda because I realized I needed more development with the culprit. I’m currently at 48 chapters, so I’m going to try to bring that up to 50 unless I can get it all down to 45 again.
> 
> But oh dear. I might have to take a hiatus soon with school starting up in September. For now, I’ll just work on cranking out updates. :p


	21. Chapter 21

Hakuba looks surprised as he jots down that statement. Then, he clears his throat and asks, “Have you informed the police of that, Imai-san?”

With a huff, the man says no, explaining that he doesn’t care for the police and goes as far as to hold a grudge against them. Conan tucks away that bit of information, hiding his frown behind his can of melon soda. Imai continues, claiming that teenage detectives barely make the cut as an exception and that he’s unnerved by the little boy who acted more like Takagi’s consultant of sorts. At that, said quote-unquote little boy freezes, listening to Tōichi chuckle beside him.

“I see,” says Hakuba, writing something down in his notebook. “What did Shibaura-san have you do and how did he get you to do it?”

Oh, yes. Conan gives a silent thanks to the other detective as he too wishes to discover what it is that the board members got themselves involved in and what lured them in. He can surmise that Aki had been bullied into doing it with her personality, possibly even bribed with money, and Ikeda had likely been in it as a desperate father looking to pay for his son’s surgery. As for the others, he hopes to figure that out as soon as he can.

“I was a broke college student. I spent a lot of my money on booze and the like and not enough of it towards my education.” Imai shrugs, leaning back in his seat. “After the ordeal, I sobered up. It wasn’t until a handful of years ago that I got fed up with keeping this secret. Shibaura made me find out Hayashi-san’s plans and any developments and programs people were working on in exchange for money.” He hums to himself, angling his head towards the ceiling. Conan wonders if there’s a scar on the bottom of his chin. “Aki also got information, I think. Ikeda and Sano managed to smuggle funds. I guess when you’re just an intern, no one suspects you to be capable of doing much.”

Hakuba nods, pausing to record the information while Conan busies himself with committing it to memory and sipping on his drink. Next to him, Kaito starts juggling balls, quiet as a mouse as he adds in miscellaneous objects that he’s gotten from who knows where—except maybe Tōichi knows, being a magician and all, of course.

(It’s suddenly getting even harder to breathe; it’s as though someone’s wrapped their hands around his too small neck, squeezing the last bit of air out of him and constricting his air passageways.)

“And what of Sugawara-san?” inquires the part-time Londoner. “Do you know what he did? And you still haven’t explain everyone else’s motives.”

Imai makes some sort of sound as though trying to find an answer in his head. “Well, we’ve all mentioned it to each other, but Sugawara refuses to answer and claims to not know what we’re talking about. He’s probably trying to play clueless until the very end in case we get caught, but—”

Interrupting at possibly the most inopportune moment, Conan’s cell phone chimes in his pocket, signaling a text message notification. He almost drops his soda, but he switches it from his right hand to left so he can pull out his device. Upon doing so, he discovers that it’s a message from Aki.

“I got a text from Aki-san,” he announces, entering in his passcode so that he can open up the message. When he taps on it, he reads it in his head, puzzling over what such peculiar words may mean.

Conan stares at the characters making up the message, wondering what it could mean in all its cryptic glory. The feeling in his chest and around his neck becomes more prominent and he can’t help but think that maybe something bad truly is going to happen. At first, he doesn’t realize as his free hand moves towards his throat with twitching fingers.

Then, someone breaks the silence.

“Edogawa-kun, is Aki-san all right?” asks Hakuba, staring at him with raised brows. His pen hovers above the off-white pages of his notebook. “Rather, are _you_ all right?”

“Y-yeah,” he replies, losing his composure for a moment. Tōichi whispers those two words he always seems to have on his tongue, prompting him to slip back into the façade of an ordinary child. “Nē, Hakuba-niichan, how much longer will this take?”

“No more than ten more minutes.” Hakuba reaches inside his inner pocket, pulling out a pocket watch. “Yes, we’ll be taking our leave shortly.”

Conan nods, drawing away from the scene as the other detective and Imai rekindle their conversation in the middle of the man’s explanation. The little detective, on the other hand, floats into the kitchen, setting his melon soda on the counter top near the sink.

He presses the call button, pulling the phone closer to his ear as he places his free hand in his pocket and angles his head up to look outside the window. The sky, he notices, is growing darker and darker. Ran will be concerned, but otherwise unbothered when he doesn’t show up for dinner, even if he did explain to her that he may be tardy.

And in his ear, the automated voice tells him that the number he’s trying to reach is unavailable. Biting his lip, he types out a text, asking if everything is fine or if he and anyone else needs to come to her rescue. When he presses send, he finds that the message won’t go through. He presses the little option to send it again and it produces the same results.

“Conan-kun? You sure you’re okay?”

“Shinichi, I’ve a bad feeling.”

“Me too,” whispers the detective, his voice barely audible even to himself. He turns on his heel to see Kaito watching him with a concerned expression. “I think Aki-san might be in trouble.” When the other asks why he thinks so, he says, “Just a hunch.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh. I’ll leave Aki’s message to your imaginations because I’m a lazy arse writer. :) I had a lot of trouble writing this chapter for some reason? Hm.
> 
> I’m trying to hype myself up. At most, I should only have 29 more chapters to write. Hopefully. I can do this. I got this.
> 
> Also, my next year of high school officially starts on Tuesday and I’m horribly nervous. Ahaha. Thinking about it too much is not good for my health at all. I just hope I can keep my updates up. :p


	22. Chapter 22

“Just a hunch, huh? That’s... that’s not very convincing,” remarks Kaito, sounding quite disturbed. “Or reassuring. Conan-kun, you know you can’t just _assume_ she’s in trouble, right?” Conan wonders when the young magician got rid of the objects he had been juggling not even five minutes ago. “But since we’re leaving soon, we could probably convince Hakuba to stop by her place if that makes you feel better.”

It really would, the detective thinks to himself.

“I guess,” murmurs Conan as he stares at the screen of his phone, which is lacking in notifications from the woman he’s worried about. He bites his lip and his free hand reaches up to tug on the collar of his shirt. He doesn’t want to wait, but it’s not like he has his skateboard handy. “I—oh, for the love of—!”

The vibrations in the left pocket of his shorts startles him. He doesn’t miss the questioning look Kaito has on his face, and he doesn’t bother trying to hide the fact that he has two phones on him because the magician isn’t stupid. Slipping his phone into his right pocket in exchange for Shinichi’s phone in his left pocket, Conan sighs. There’s no need to look at who’s calling.

As he answers, he pinches the bridge of his nose and moves into the hallway lest Kaito tries to eavesdrop.

“Heiji-niichan,” he says in a stilted, childlike voice. “Why’re you calling me this late?”

“ _A-ah, I’ve been doin’ some diggin’ on dat thing ya wanted me ta check,_ ” replies Heiji, catching onto the fact that Conan is in a place where even the walls may have ears. “ _I’m still workin’ on it, but Otaki-han found some interestin’ stuff. ‘pparently, there was this sort of investigation with Mitsuaki Enterprises a few years ago. The president committed a murder-suicide. His company collapsed and he poured all his life savin’s into it. No luck though ‘cause his company fell through and he drowned in debt. Dat enough to satisfy ya or should I keep lookin’?_ ”

“A murder-suicide?” repeats the shrunken sleuth in a hushed voice. He slides his eyes to meet Tōichi’s impassive gaze. Conan shifts so that his back is to Kaito and whispers, “Who did he kill?”

The Osakan falls silent, but Conan can hear him saying something to someone else, or rather, yelling. He can only assume that he’s telling Kazuha to leave him alone for the time being. Then, Heiji returns, explaining that this case hadn’t taken place in Osaka so it may take Otaki a little longer to get the specifics. The other detective then suggests that he do a quick Internet search. With a sigh, the Beikan gives a curt thanks and hangs up abruptly.

Conan thumbs out a brief message to Haibara, asking if she’d look into it for him. As an afterthought, he asks her to send him those pictures he had taken as she has yet to get back to him with that. And when he pockets his phone and turns, he notices Kaito leaning against the wall, juggling three balls in one hand with the other behind his head. Conan eyes the nonchalant expression suspiciously and can’t help but feel that the other had tried eavesdropping—hopefully to no avail.

“You know, kids don’t usually have two phones,” says Kaito. “Hell, most kids don’t even have one phone. So, why do you have two of ‘em?” The young magician raises his brows. “And similar models, nonetheless. Can you even afford two phones?”

“One of them’s old,” Conan lies, ignoring the amused smirk from the dead magician. “I don’t see why you care.” He frowns. “And my parents pay for them, if you’re really wondering.”

“Oh? But I thought your parents were in an accident. Are you trying to tell me they’re paying for your phones whilst recovering?”

With a scoff, Conan replies, “Yeah, _were_. They’re fine now. They’re just out of the country. Because of their jobs, we’ve always been on the move. They decided it’s best I stay here.” He shrugs. “I think it’s nice when you’re used to not unpacking since you’ll be gone in a week anyway.”

The lie tumbles from his lips with ease. Then again, is it really a lie if it’s based on his first childhood? Used to his parents’ antics in avoiding his father’s editors, he grew accustomed to traversing in some twisted game of hide and seek. Still, it stopped in time for him to attend preschool. So, it’s more of a half-truth than anything.

Kaito frowns. He almost looks... concerned? With raised brows, the messy-haired young man asks Conan if he’s okay with all this. After all, children should grow up with their parents’ influence. It’s not healthy for a child to be away from his or her parents for a long time in most cases. The detective is almost touched by the concern.

(But it’s weird, he thinks, to see such human expressions on the face of a phantom.)

“Well, it doesn’t bother me?” Conan bites his lip. It doesn’t bother him, does it? He thinks of his mother’s tendency to be overbearing and of the frustration his father causes from time to time. “I’m used to it.”

(Besides, he’s never alone; not with a man like Tōichi.)

“Sometimes, Edogawa-kun, you sound older than you look.” Conan turns around to see the other detective looking down at him. “Are you two ready to go now? Given the time, we should at least be able to—”

“I think we should check up on Aki-san,” Kaito cuts in. “Conan-kun seems to be under the impression that she’s in trouble. You probably didn’t notice the way he’s been on edge.”

Conan observes as Hakuba’s right eye twitches. “Kuroba, I’d appreciate if you don’t underestimate my abilities. Of course I noticed. I just assumed Edogawa-kun was discomforted by your unwelcome presence.” He looks down at his fellow detective. “But I suppose there’s enough time to visit Aki-san if you want.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my. My sincerest apologies for taking a hot minute to update. Writer’s block and all. I have prewritten scenes, but I can’t just jump into them. :/ I may end up rewriting them as well. Sigh.
> 
> Rest assured I am determined to finish this story though!!!
> 
> I literally wrote this in the span of an hour and then I spent another hour rewriting it. It’s 3:02 am and I am dead tired because it’s Monday morning and I have to get up for school in two hours and soshsiwgwi. Like, yes, hello, my name is Chronic Bad Decisions. I say chronic because this is a lifelong issue. :)
> 
> I’m... I’m going to try to sleep. Hopefully wake up in two hours. Um... I’m dead tired. Did I mention that? I had a long week last week because I love panic attacks and anxiety. I’ll probably edit this later if there are any typos. I’m counting on autocorrect to have my back though.
> 
> Goodnight. Have a nice day. I love you guys. Thanks for reading. Toodles.


	23. Chapter 23

“Shit.”

“Kuroba,” hisses the other detective as he begins to unbuckle his seatbelt. “Edogawa-kun is—”

Unbuckling his seatbelt and throwing the car door open in one fell swoop, apparently. Conan stumbles out of the car, eyes wide and mouth agape. He doesn’t notice Tōichi reaching an intangible hand towards him. And he most definitely does not notice the panicked yells of Hakuba and Kaito or the old lady speaking to some sort of emergency responder.

Everything is on fire.

And Conan can’t breathe.

His feet are guiding him towards the building, which radiates immense heat. The smoke is suffocating. The house is being eaten away by hungry flames that glow a terrifying crimson-gold. There’s something akin to debris scattered across the yard. And just seconds earlier, the sound of an explosion had caused the dread to increase tenfold.

He stops. Phone. _Call her_. In his haste and panicked state, he fumbles to get his phone out of his left pocket. Or did he put it in his right one? Right. Left. Right? Right. He reaches in and pulls out an old friend with a soccer ball strap. Thumbing in his passcode, he glances at the house. Everything is on fire. It won’t stop.

“Cona—”

“ _Kuroba, shut up or so help me,_ ” he hisses through his teeth. Out of the corner of his eyes, he watches the other flinch. He doesn’t bother looking at Tōichi. Conan switches his attention back to his phone. She’s not answering.

She’s not answering.

He pulls his phone away from his ear and slips it in his pocket. Think. He needs to think. The flames are mad and livid. There must be a way in somewhere—and he needs to find it.

She’s still in there. _She’s still in there._

That thought jolts through him. Wide eyes look back at the house, which still glows with heated anger. He takes one step forward. Then another. And another. Then, he’s full on running until something seizes his arms and pulls him off the ground.

“No! No, let me go!” he yells, struggling in his captor’s hold. Conan gasps, the sound coming out strained as he takes in ashy air. He can’t breathe. Even as his breathing picks up speed and his vision morphs, he can’t help but cry out, “Let me go! I need to save her! Please, _I need to save her!_ ”

And before him, the flames bleed together and transform into a rather familiar scene. He remembers being there, on the island, under the moonlight and in the light of dancing flames. Despite the heat, he shivers.

Whoever is holding his arms is holding them too tight, but they don’t have his legs. He thrashes about, kicking with all his might. “Hey, breathe— _breathe_. You’re beginning to sound hysteric. Just focus on my voice and—”

“No! I can still save her! Let me—let me go!” Conan squirms, his vision waning but his other senses on high. The heat is strong. The smoke. Its odor. Its foul taste in his mouth. In his ears, the sound of a piano; it’s a farrago of crashing notes and fluid plays. “She’s still in there! _I can’t let it happen again!_ ”

Suddenly, he just stops. His arms still shake with violent tremors in his fists. In his chest, his heart is thundering in his ears yet the pounding isn’t loud enough to drown out the sounds of the piano. Conan stills, forgetting to breathe until his head starts to hurt from a lack of oxygen.

He hears some shouting. He can’t tell who’s yelling. Whoever’s holding him has shifted him in their arms, rocking him like some child. Someone’s shaking him—or is he shaking? Conan turns his head and suddenly he’s back, back on Tsukikage Island.

(Right a wrong. Right a wrong. _Right a wrong._ )

“Let me go,” he commands, voice breathless and weak. “I said let me go! You don’t understand— _I have to save him!_ ”

“Save _who_ , Tantei-kun?” The nickname is whispered in a hushed voice that he almost misses. “If Aki-san was still inside, she’s dead now. So, who’s left for you to save? Just breathe. I want you to breathe in time with my counts.”

Even as his breathing levels out, his heart is still racing. Slowly, but surely, his senses come back to him. His vision is first to return, which disorients him. Conan finds that he’s staring up at Kaito. He wonders if his heart skipped a beat. Soon, he’s able to see that the worry in the magician’s eyes don’t translate into his face.

He stares at the house. The fire department arrives, followed by some police cars and two ambulances. Kaito brings him over to one, claiming that Conan had gotten shaken up for a lack of better words. He doesn’t say anything until the magician sits him down inside of the vehicle.

“I’m fine,” he mutters, narrowing his eyes just the slightest bit. “I don’t need to be coddled.”

“Can you explain what happened?” the paramedic asks Kaito, ignoring the bespectacled boy. The woman takes a blanket, wrapping it around Conan’s shoulders. He tries to shake it off, but he finds his trembling hands won’t let him.

“Trouble breathing and then hyperventilation; shaking; thrashing about; rapid heartbeat,” Kaito lists off, counting on his fingers. He glances at Conan. “I think for a while there he was somewhere else in his mind?” He continues to explain, but the detective tunes him out.

Tōichi sits next to him, rubbing his back with a hand he can’t feel. The man doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t need to for Conan to know that the man wants him to start talking about why he reacted so intensely upon seeing the fire. He shifts about, trying to trick his mind into thinking of something other than—

“Piano Sonata Number 14 in C# Minor, ‘Quasi Una Fantasia’, Opus 27, Number 2,” he says, not realizing it at first. “Better known as Beethoven’s _Moonlight Sonata._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oof. It’s been a hot minute since I updated. My excuse? Writer’s block. Also, December was a busy month for me. It was my sixteenth birthday on the 12th and I had practices for mock trial season and then my teachers tried to fit in as many tests and quizzes before break.
> 
> But I’m back! Let’s see... this chapter was originally going to be Conan being interrogated by Hakuba in the car, but I couldn’t find the right way to execute it. Shrugs. So, yeah.
> 
> Anywho... I did some editing to a few chapters because of some discontinuities that I somehow missed. Yeah. That’s all.
> 
> Before I end this, Happy New Year!


	24. Chapter 24

His chest hurts.

The fire has been out for the past twenty minutes. Firefighters and investigative officers ventured into the rubble only seven minutes ago after deeming it safe enough to explore. Hakuba joined them and Kaito is off doing who knows what.

He’d join them if he weren’t still shaking, still completely and utterly embarrassed about how he had acted, if he weren’t still reeling from the terror of reliving the events of Tsukikage Island. He almost hates how stupid he had been. Never before has he acted so... terrified. The past hour or so is an hour he’d like to forget.

And Kaito. And Hakuba. They had to see him like that—whatever _that_ even is.

He scratches his leg. Right now, he just wants to go home; whether home is Kudō manor or the Detective Agency with Ran, he doesn’t care. Whatever happened tonight with him was nothing—a glitch in the matrix, if you may. He’s just tired. He hadn’t slept well last night.

With his body wracked with tremors as he leans forward with his elbows on his knees and his face in his hands, he whispers, “What’s wrong with me?” And he almost wants Tōichi to answer him, to tell him that nothing’s wrong with him, but the man doesn’t have the chance because another voice cuts in, startling him and almost sending him off the edge of the ambulance.

“They’re still looking for her body.”

He stills. He looks up and wonders how he hadn’t noticed the magician walking up to him. Words failing him, he settles for swinging his legs, which dangle off the back of the ambulance. Suddenly, he’s hyper-aware of how chilly the evening air is in contrast to the fire that had been blazing not too long ago.

“Conan-kun?”

The detective stares at his dirtied trainers. He’ll have to clean them. Another day, though. Tonight, he just wants to go straight to bed. He clears his throat. “What have they found?”

Kaito hums. It looks like he’s pondering the question and sorting out his facts. Conan can only hope that the answer won’t come out in riddles. He doesn’t feel like thinking anymore than he has to tonight. “Well,” begins the magician, “Hakuba’s talking with that inspector over there. I think I heard some of the officers talking about a bomb. They’re still looking for that, too.”

“Probably where the kitchen was.” Conan takes his right hand and begins to trace nonsensical shapes on the skin of his right leg. Not the best idea, he thinks, wearing shorts out tonight of all nights. “You should tell them that. Obviously, it won’t be intact, but it’s a start.”

“How’d you figure?” Kaito asks, genuine curiosity leaking into his voice.

Conan doesn’t answer. Kaito doesn’t press. Instead, the other walks away, murmuring something under his breath that the faux child doesn’t strain to hear. He sits there, waiting, legs still swinging over empty air. A breath escapes him, a breath he hadn’t realize he was holding, and he tugs on the collar of his shirt.

With a greater pull, he unbuttons it so that the fabric no longer is stiff around his neck.

There’s a buzzing in his pocket that draws his attention away from everything else. He slips his left hand in its corresponding pocket and pulls out Shinichi’s phone with its screen lit up with Haibara’s caller I.D. Hurriedly, he answers it.

Before he can even breath, her voice is sharp in his ears and saying, “ _Kudō-kun, where exactly are you? The girl at the Detective Agency called to say that she’s picking you up in fifteen minutes_.” Unadulterated panic seizes him because he isn’t exactly fifteen minutes away from the professor’s. “ _Luckily, I was able to convince her that you’d be staying late to help me complete a project._ ”

Remember, he thinks to himself, to take Haibara shopping for purses at the closest _Burberry_ store or wherever it is that she likes to shop.

“Sorry.” Conan sighs through his nose. His shoulders relax and he wonders if he had been that stiff all night. “There was another bomb.” She’s silent. “I didn’t get back in time to stop it. Think you and Hakase can pick me up?” He rattles off the address, hoping that she won’t ask too many questions about tonight. “I—”

“—found a body! Let’s get some pictures and take it away!”

“ _Kudō-kun?_ ”

Conan swallows. “I gotta go. Don’t forget to send the pictures. I’m still waiting on them,” he says before hanging up without waiting for her response. He relinquishes the comfortable weight of the blanket and drops to the ground. His legs are shaky and his knees almost buckle beneath him, but he stands his ground before making his way over to where a small team of officers are looking at an alleged body.

“Conan-kun, _don’t_.”

The hand on his shoulder makes him tense. He doesn’t look up at Kaito. Just who does the thief think he is, telling him what not to do? He finds that his feet are rooted to the ground, not listening to the urgings in his mind. His heart is throbbing in his chest.

Deep inside, some part of him wonders if this is some delayed effect of the poison. If that were the case, he’d probably feel much more than some heart and chest pain. He shakes his head, focusing on reality for once.

Narrowed, blue eyes watch as the officers break away, preparing to take the body away. He can see the body. It’s... haunting. He hears Kaito’s strangled sound of disgust. He can still taste fire in the air. He can still feel some phantom warmth now that he’s closer to the house. Conan almost feels sick.

Somehow, he can’t bring himself to look away.

“You know, I’ve always wondered what it’s like to burn alive...” Kaito murmurs, his hand tightening its hold so minutely that Conan barely notices.

“Me too.”

And really, he has.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the most chapters I’ve ever posted without dropping the story. I’m so proud of myself. Wow. Amazing.
> 
> Anywho... um... this was supposed to be a prewrite scene, but I decided to rewrite it entirely. The original scene had Hakuba and Kaito kind of questioning Conan to the point where he spills the beans about Asoh Seiji. I decided to save that revelation for another time!
> 
> I gotta shower. Then bake cookies. Peace out!!


	25. Chapter 25

“You have a ride home, right?” Kaito asks from his spot beside Conan.

The pair is sitting off to the side, mindful of the ongoing investigation and staying out of anyone’s way. Conan finished being questioned a few minutes ago and the paramedic who had been watching him finally took her eyes off of him. He’d have joined Hakuba in badgering the officers until he got all the information they had or in examining the wreckage, but Tōichi had recommended that he sit this one out and he couldn’t find it within himself to disagree.

“Yeah,” he answers, voice flat. As he watches Hakuba poke around, jotting notes into that stupid notebook of his while holding a small flashlight between his right ear and shoulder, he can’t help but feel the itch that comes with wanting to piece together a troubling puzzle. “I’ll just grab my backpack from the car before I go.”

Kaito hums in reply, seeming to accept the answer. Conan wonders what he’s thinking about. “Jeez, look at that Hakuba. So engrossed in finding clues and not enough in making sure you’re okay. Conan-kun, do me a favor and don’t grow up like him, all right?”

Maybe it’s for the best that Kaito doesn’t know that Conan had been almost as, if not more, dismissive as Hakuba is being when he was still Shinichi. Always focusing on solving the mystery instead of consoling a witness or spending time with Ran as he had promised. He likes to fool himself and think that being Conan has changed him.

“Hai,” he says simply, casting his gaze towards the sky. The moon hangs high in the sky but hidden behind clouds. It brings him back to a cloudy night on a rooftop and in hot pursuit of Kid and the treasure he had stolen.

“So, the Kid Killer?” Kaito sounds rather amused. Conan wonders what’s up with the change in topic. “I take it you’re anti-Kid then?”

“He’s a thief,” the detective proclaims, choosing his words carefully so as to not offend the other. He decides that Kaito must have quite the ego if he decided to bring up himself. “But I’m sure he has reasons for doing what he does.”

Kaito is oddly silent after that. Conan has to think about whether he said something wrong. Maybe his words are suspicious since 1412 has given him little to no reason to question his motives for stealing. Before he can dwell on it any longer, Kaito asks him if he’d ever want to send the thief to jail.

“Edogawa-kun, can you come here for a moment?” Hakuba calls out, crouching near the ground with one gloved hand brushing against something.

At the call of his fake family name, he perks up, now having a valid excuse to join the officers. He stands, leaving behind Kaito in his haste to find out why the other detective requests his presence.

Though, he notices a sick feeling building up as he nears the other. His mouth goes dry when he sees what Hakuba is now holding between his fingers.

Some remnant of that paper cake shop bag.

“Some of the officers found what they believe to be remains of a bomb,” Hakuba tells him, guiding the light of a small flashlight to some bits and pieces on the ground that are currently being photographed. “They found some pieces on top of this, but they’ve already collected them. You recognize this too, don’t you?”

“The cake shop.”

“I was there that day when you came up to the counter and asked if the woman had seen a suspicious-looking man.” Hakuba hands the scrap to an officer, briefly explaining its significance. Conan is able to commit it to memory. “You don’t think...?”

Conan doesn’t respond as he turns on his heel. There’s no need to finish the sentence because the both of them have come to the same conclusion: the bomb was likely inside the bag.

And to think, he could have been there with her to discover the bomb, he could have been there to defuse it and—

“You saw it.” Conan looks up and peers over his shoulder, confused. “You cut through the kitchen to use Aki-san’s restroom and saw that bag sitting there.” Something seems to dawn on him and Conan watches Hakuba look at him, pity in his eyes. “You think you could have prevented her death.”

He flinches. It must be quite obvious. And in addition to his episode earlier, it’s no wonder that Hakuba arrived to the conclusion that he feels guilty.

Conan thinks it’s wise to avoid mentioning that, had he been able to stay just a minute longer, the bomb would have been discovered if it really were in that bag. He especially can’t let Kaito know that lest he assume that letting Conan have a slice of cake would have prevented Aki’s death. And he can’t let Hakuba believe that his punctuality aided in her downfall.

“My ride will be here soon,” he announces, averting his gaze and pulling it away from Hakuba’s. “I thought I should let you know someone’s picking me up.”

“Too bad,” Hakuba murmurs. “I was hoping I could discuss a few things with you. Bāya was more than willing to drop you off at the agency.”

“I’m free after school tomorrow.” Conan scratches his cheek. “We could meet in the café below the agency.”

The part-time English resident asks him if he’s sure that he’d prefer to meet after school instead of playing with his friends as all elementary school boys should. It’s easy for Conan to bite his tongue to refrain from saying that he isn’t like all elementary school boys because he truly isn’t one. Instead, he tells the other that his friends are otherwise occupied anyway.

It’s quite possible that Hakuba doesn’t believe him, but there are no obvious objections.

The other detective promises to arrive in Beika by five. Conan just nods. He can work with that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m hellbent on finishing this story if it’s the last thing I do!!
> 
> So, I kept rewriting this chapter until I found a version that I could write more than 300 words for. I originally wrote a bit where Conan slipped up a bit by referring to Tōichi by his name while talking to Kaito, but I decided to scrap it.
> 
> Anywho... get ready for a time skip and a bit of angst in the next few chapters. Or, as close to angst as I can get. It ties in with Conan’s... ah... abilities. ;) Though, I may forgo the time skip next chapter so we can have him interact with Agasa and Haibara in the car.
> 
> Okay. It’s 10:56 pm and I’m literally falling asleep as I type this. Have a nice day!


	26. Chapter 26

That night, he dreams of shattering glass and savage heat.  
  
With a start, Conan jerks awake, his heart hammering as though he had just been in the middle of falling from a great height. With his mind in a frenzied and panicked state, he lays in his futon, eyes wide and staring at the ceiling without truly seeing—a result of the darkness and his inability to think coherent thoughts. A whisper in the back of his mind recognizes that he had just been dreaming but he knows better.  
  
He hadn’t been dreaming—he had been remembering.  
  
Eventually, he realizes that the quiet night is punctured by sounds of Kogorō’s snoring. It takes him a few moments too many after that realization to realize he’s back in the agency, laying on his futon on the ground. And with the abundance of darkness, he only notices the absence of his glasses when he makes a move to rub his eyes. Reaching out with one hand, he drags it across the berber carpet, searching for the familiar shape of his glasses. He knows that his glasses are useless, only a paper-thin disguise that further separates Edogawa Conan from Kudō Shinichi, but he can’t help the urgings of his mind to put them on.  
  
He finds them folded up and off to the side, just a few centimeters to the left away from his head. Grabbing them, Conan doesn’t bother to wonder why they hadn’t been on his face. He assumes that Kogorō or Ran had come in to slip them off of his face—his best bet is on the former though as Ran is smart enough to place them on the dresser or bedside table. Conan’s been stepped on in the middle of the night enough times to know Kogorō isn’t very careful when clambering out of bed so of course he’d fail to realize that something as fragile as glasses should not be placed on the ground.  
  
Sitting up, Conan clutches the blanket as it gathers in his lap. Now that his glasses are back on his face, the itching unease has quelled and the pounding of his heart is only just now beginning to slow down. He swallows. His throat hurts so much! Actually, no. His throat is simply too dry for his liking. Perhaps he should have a glass of water?  
  
He turns his head, looking at the lump in the bed next to his futon. With any luck, Kogorō is far too lost in sleep’s comforting hands to be roused by any bumps in the night. Conan slowly peels away his blanket, tossing it to the side and pushing himself up. He stumbles. His quiet steps towards the door are drowned out by the staccato of Kogorō’s snoring. He twists the knob and pushes the door open, making sure to apply pressure because the hinges squeak and he doesn’t want to make too much noise. As soon as it’s wide enough for his small body, he slips through, activating the night vision in one of the lenses so that he doesn’t trip over anything in the darkness.  
  
Conan turns around to close the door behind him. Sleep is the last thing on his mind right now and he feels like going back in that room anytime soon will drive him crazy. He’s had enough of Kogorō’s snoring these days—or nights, as it is.  
  
“Shinichi-kun?”  
  
There’s a moment of panic before his addled mind realizes that the only one who could have called out to him is Tōichi. He finds the man regarding him with a look of concern.  
  
“Tōichi-san,” he whispers, unsure of how else to reply to the man’s call.  
  
“Are you okay?”  
  
“Just needed a drink.” Conan bites the inside of his lip, weaving his fingers together. “What are you doing here?”  
  
Tōichi either doesn’t have an answer or doesn’t accept Conan’s own. Too bad, he thinks, because it’s still a mystery concerning the man’s whereabouts when he isn’t with Conan.  
  
“Go back to bed,” says Tōichi, taking on that fatherly tone that he’s heard many times. “At least after you’ve had your drink.”  
  
“I’ll try.”  
  
(Liar.)  
  
He wonders if Tōichi believes him. Probably not. For as long as he’s known him, Tōichi has seen through so many of his lies—and there have been a lot of lies over the years. Conan purses his lips as he walks past him, keeping his eyes on the ground and his head angled down. He reaches the kitchen area and looks around.  
  
“Perhaps you should turn the lights on,” Tōichi says. Conan frowns. “You’re shaking.”  
  
Is he? Conan looks down, holding his hands in front of him. Huh.  
  
“It’s a bit cold,” he says with uncertainty in his voice. Tōichi hums. Conan decides not to comment.  
  
He gets his glass of water after that and sips on it, debating about what he should do next. Sleep doesn’t appeal to him. Maybe he should check out the pictures that Haibara _finally_ sent him? That sounds like a nice idea, doesn’t it? He finds himself in the chair of Kogorō’s office, just under their apartment and logging into the computer because he’d have to be losing his touch to not know that the password is _Yoko556_.  
  
Conan logs into his email, propping his left elbow onto the desk and resting his chin in the palm of his hand. He finds the email with all of the attached images he had been pestering her for. Dragging the mouse over, he clicks on the first attachment.  
  
Whoops. Looks like the image came out a bit blurry. Conan clicks out of it and onto another one. Yet another low quality image. Frowning, he exits and clicks on another. Does the problem lie with the ring or his photography skills?  
  
With a sigh, he clicks out and onto another image. His tired eyes barely register the picture, but his mind is still sharp enough to realize there’s something weird in the image.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. It’s been a bop since I’ve updated this. Sksksks. I was hoping to have a new chapter up on the 4th, but alas!
> 
> It’s kind of 1:09 am. I’ll edit this when I wake up or something. Goodnight. xx


	27. Chapter 27

The next day at school finds Conan dwelling on the blurred, childlike figure in the background of one of the photos.  
  
His initial thought is that he had simply been mistaken. The quality of the photos were rather poor. Conan has to speak to Agasa about that at some point. And Haibara. Maybe she can help him make the images clearer? Anyway, that figure could have been something as insignificant as a trashcan as his eyes were tired and his mind was spent from that memory. Then again, didn’t Tōichi say something about seeing a child in the hall while they were at the Koshiba main building with Takagi?  
  
So, maybe he hadn’t been seeing things.  
  
But… Conan’s almost positive that he would have noticed a child—or the child would have noticed him. Children seem to do that—flock over to the nearest and newest one, he thinks.  
  
And wouldn’t it be weird? For there to be a child?  
  
Mitsuhiko’s whisper of, “My sister heard from one of her friends that the museum’s haunted,” draws him away from his thoughts. “She and her class were there on a field trip and apparently some of the exhibits moved on their own!”  
  
Ayumi lets out a shrill gasp, muffled by the pages of her book. She whispers back, asking if what he’s saying is true. Conan just wonders if the museum in question had been the art museum where he solved one of his first cases as a shrunken sleuth. Manaka‘s plans of turning the museum into a casino had been unsuccessful given his murder.  
  
He snorts.  
  
That man had been a pain both in life and after. It wouldn’t come as much of a surprise if he were still around, doomed to roam the exhibits of that bloodied museum. Speaking of, is the museum still operating as one or has it since been closed? Conan can’t recall the fate that befell the place. After all, Kubota had been found to be selling off pieces and an architect had already come in before Manaka was killed. It’s not impossible for the man to still be there, wandering around as some echo of life and upset that his money-making schemes had been foiled.  
  
Conan still doesn’t know how the whole _thing_ works. It’s not like he can waltz into his favorite bookstore and pick up a book about people like him. Though, there must be people like him, right? How else has the idea of seeing the dead made it into works of fiction? Albeit terribly written works of fiction that rub him the wrong way, but fiction nonetheless! Or is this a case where someone entertained the idea and found that someone just had to write a story about someone being able to see the dead?  
  
But… _haunted_?  
  
He doesn’t like to say haunted. It sounds so supernatural! For someone with his _abilities_ , even the thought of the supernatural seems questionable at best. The word doesn’t sit right with him. Then again, how else is he to describe the phenomenon of someone dead still remaining in some place or with some person who is still alive? He doesn’t have an answer for that. No one does. If someone did, these abilities wouldn’t have to remain a secret.  
  
(Dear God, he sometimes wishes these abilities would just go away! They ruined his friendship with Ran the first time. And he can’t help but feel like it’s cheating—being able to talk to the people who should be dead, that is. Though, he’s ever so grateful to have met Tōichi.)  
  
Anyway, yes, _haunted_. Is it possible that Aki is still there, still in the rubble of her home? Is there anything she could tell him if she were to remain there as an echo of her own self? Conan’s found that people are more willing to talk when they’re dead. You have nothing to lose when you’ve already lost your life.  
  
“I say it’s our duty as the Detective Boys to check out the creepy stuff,” Genta says in a low, raspy voice that’s meant to be a whisper. The kids agree and Haibara hums, saying she’s going straight to the professor’s to further enforce his new diet. Apparently he’s finally making progress.  
  
“Conan, are you coming?” Ayumi asks, peeking out from behind her own book and smiling at him.  
  
He shakes his head. “I have to go home right after school. Sorry.”  
  
Not a complete lie. He will go to the Agency (—why did he call it _home_?—) right after school, but he won’t be staying for long. If he can grab his skateboard and drop his stuff off, he’ll have ample time to make it to Ekoda and back to meet with Hakuba in Poirot at the allotted time.  
  
“But you guys go have fun without me.” He manages to smile, but he ducks his head and hides behind his book in case it starts to look strained. “Tell me if you find any ghosts.”  
  
“We won’t need to tell you,” Genta says, sounding rather proud. “You’ll get to read about it in the paper. We’ll show those ghosts who’s boss.”  
  
Conan just sighs into his book. There’s a niggling thought in the back of his mind that he can’t quite reach; it’s as though his subconscious has reached a conclusion that he hasn’t made himself. There must be something he’s missing, right?  
  
“Are you all right, Conan?” says Ayumi’s tiny voice, sounding so concerned.  
  
“Huh?”  
  
“You looked confused,” she whispers. “Maybe you should choose an easier book for your book report. Kobayashi-sensei said the section you picked your book from would be too hard for us.”  
  
He holds the book tighter. He’d like this book, thank you very much. “I was just wondering why Ran-nēchan wanted me home as soon as school lets out, that’s all.”  
  
She blinks at him before smiling. “She’s probably just worried that you’ll get into trouble like you always do.”  
  
Trouble. Yeah.  
  
“You’re probably right.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... Conan had the idea that Aki may still be around. I’ve been waiting to get to this point of the story!! And we got a bit of insight on Conan’s abilities and how he feels about them. I don’t want to focus on the _supernatural_ aspect too much, but here we are!!
> 
> Anywho, I’m currently in my lunch block right now. If I have anything to add, I’ll edit this later. ^ ^


	28. Chapter 28

“Perhaps you should stay home and rest instead of running off to wherever it is you’re going.”  
  
Conan ignores Tōichi’s sensible suggestion in an act of stubbornness. He hadn’t gone back to sleep after waking up at that late hour. How could he when every time he closed his eyes brought forth memories he had tried to seal away to no avail? He’d left for school earlier to stop by a coffee shop for a nice to-go cup of medium roast house blend coffee; he nursed it in his small hands during his walk to school before recycling it prior to entering his classroom. When questioned by Ran, who had just finished washing her face and left the bathroom in time to catch him opening the door, he lied and told her that he needed to finish an art project. He still isn’t sure whether she believed him since she had this pensive look on her face, but he’s grateful that she hadn’t asked any further questions.  
  
“Shinichi-kun—”  
  
“Can you just shut up?” he snaps, turning on his heel to face the man.  
  
“Oi, oi. That’s no way to talk to your superiors, brat. I didn’t even say anything.” Conan freezes, just now remembering that he had returned to the agency to pick up his skateboard. How could he forget? To him, Kogorō says, “And wherever you’re going, stay out of trouble and get back before dark,” in the middle of cracking open another can of beer. The sour stench of alcohol makes his nose wrinkle. “Keibu-dono called the other day and told me to keep an eye on you. Don’t remember why,” Kogorō slurs, leaning back in his seat and sipping idly on his drink. “Ran’s out studying with her classmates. Won’t be back ‘til later. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll get back before she does.”  
  
Conan ducks his head, tearing his eyes away from the sorry sight of a drunk man, and pulls the door open. “See you later, Otchan.”  
  
There’s a grunt of acknowledgement and a string of muttering that Conan decides to ignore as the door closes behind him. He stands there, staring down at the sidewalk that’s just a few meters away.  
  
Being Conan is frustrating, he thinks as his lips curl downwards and his eyes narrow. One day. He just wants one day as Conan where the adults act like he can take care of himself, where he can be treated the same as his teenage self had been. He’s tired of holding his breath and having to step around landmines because one wrong word or one wrong action leaves him feeling more caged and coddled in a way that he’ll never grow used to.  
  
All that aside, Conan realizes that it’s only a matter of time before someone decides to involve Kogorō in the case. Oddly enough, it doesn’t seem like anyone’s done that yet. Though, he’s willing to bet that Takagi will suggest to the inspect that they should enlist the help of the Sleeping Sleuth, which is ironic on so many levels. The brains and voice behind the Sleeping Sleuth is already on the case.  
  
They don’t need to know that.  
  
He bounds down the steps, throwing his skateboard onto the pavement. He hops on, apologizing to a startled passer-by and shifts the heel of his left foot, activating the motor of his skateboard which sends him down the sidewalk at a pace just above a hurried stroll.  
  
“And where do you think you’re going?” Tōichi asks. Conan’s only mostly certain that the man already knows. “You have a meeting with that boy later.”  
  
“You don’t have to remind me. I just want to check out Aki-san’s place for something I may have missed,” he says shortly in a clipped, quiet murmur. After all, he only remembers bits and pieces of that night. And he hadn’t gotten much information out of Hakuba. Of course he wants to check the place out for himself! Conan leans to the left, pulling him and his skateboard away from one of the slow-walking pedestrians.  
  
“I see.”  
  
He can only define Tōichi’s voice as neutral and it irks him more than he’d like to admit. He isn’t _truly_ lying! He really is going back to Aki’s to search for something he missed—just not the usual sort of something like a clue that went by unnoticed.  
  
Conan resists the urge to defend himself as it’s blatantly obvious to him that Tōichi either doesn’t believe him or believes that this is a bad idea. Biting back the words that dance on the tip of his tongue, he wonders why Tōichi’s response seemed so vexing and so aggravating.  
  
And don’t get him started on Kogorō’s shallow concern fueled only by the monthly paychecks of ¥15,000 from his parents.  
  
Scattering those thoughts, he purses his lips and turns right to cut through an alleyway. Conan asks himself what he’ll do if Aki isn’t there. He feels that this may be a bad idea, but the whole mystery could be solved if he takes a risk and is lucky enough to be able to speak with her. Still, there remains a foreboding tickle in his throat that won’t go away no matter how many times he scratches the area just under his chin.  
  
That doesn’t stop him; if anything, it keeps him going.  
  
Conan makes the left-hand turn into another alley and then finds himself on a sidewalk. He moves out of the way of a woman chatting away on what sounds like an important business call. Mostly to himself but to the magician as well, he grumbles about how he at least has the decency to watch where he’s going when he’s using his phone whilst walking down the street or riding his skateboard. Tōichi chuckles.  
  
But when Tōichi’s quiet laughter dissolves into nothing, the heavy feeling returns. Conan bites his lip, feeling a bundle of anxiety within.  
  
“Don’t be disappointed if she’s not there.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m so sleepy. Happy Pride Month!!!
> 
> I probably wrote like three versions of this. This is the best I got. Sksksks. Next chapter will be a doozy. Maybe. I’m planning on it. Lol.
> 
> Okay. Goodnight. I’ll edit this if need be.
> 
> Oh. There may be a trigger warning next chapter. I’ll mention it in more detail in the beginning notes if that’s the case. ^ ^
> 
> Okay. Ta ta. Toodles. Night. Jajaoah.
> 
> Edit: Jk I didn’t sleep. I found some clips of episode 941 aND ITS LITERALLY ALMOST TWO IN THE MORNING AND IM SCREECHING. IM ACTUALLY SO HYPE??? I HAVENT WATCHED ANY OF THE RECENT EPS SINCE 932 I THINK AND ISHSKSHSKSJSJS. IVE IMAGINED WRITING SOME SORT OF INSTALLMENT LIKE THAT IN MY KAISHIN EXES AU AND LIKE IM KIND OF INSPIRED BUT ITS SO LATE AND I SHOULD BE SLEEPING BUT HOLY SMOKES I CANT.

**Author's Note:**

> Please consider leaving a comment and/or a kudos. :) They are greatly appreciated and motivate me to keep on writing.
> 
> Note: As this is an AU, this fic takes place before the Twilight Palace but not too long after the Trembling Police Headquarters.


End file.
